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lie was not properly dressed for such an entertainment, and so they turned him out. 








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A SERIES OF NARRATIVES, DIALOGUES, BIOGRAPHIES, AND TALES, 
FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND ENTERTAINMENT 
OF THE YOUNG. 


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NUMEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 


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§1FiMQ1F BATTS? 


THE RULE OF EXCLUSION FROM 


HEAVEN, 


HARPER 8c BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 


?2b 

. Aia. 

St 


Entered, according to an Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight 
hundred and fifty-five, by 

HARPER & BROTHERS, 


in the Clerk’s Office for the Southern District of New York. 


PREFACE. 


The present volume is one of a proposed monthly series of 
story books for the young. 

The publishers of the series, in view of the great improvements 
which have been made within a few years past in the means and 
appliances of the typographical art, and of the accumulation of 
their own facilities and resources, not only for the manufacture 
of such books in an attractive form, and the embellishment of 
them with every variety of illustration, but also for the circula- 
tion of them in the widest manner throughout the land, find that 
they are in a condition to make a monthly communication of this 
kind to a very large number of families, and under auspices far 
more favorable than would have been possible at any former 
period. They have accordingly resolved on undertaking the 
work, and they have intrusted to the writer of this notice the 
charge of preparing the volumes. 

The books, though called story books, are not intended to be 
works of amusement merely to those who may receive them, but 
of substantial instruction. The successive volumes will comprise 


PREFACE. 


viii 

a great variety, both in. respect to the subjects which they treat, 
and to the form and manner in which the subjects will be pre- 
sented ; but the end and aim of all will be to impart useful 
knowledge, to develop the thinking and reasoning powers, to 
teach a correct and discriminating use of language, to present 
models of good conduct for imitation, and bad examples to be 
shunned, to explain and enforce the highest principles of moral 
duty, and, above all, to awaken and cherish the spirit of humble 
and unobtrusive, but heartfelt piety. The writer is aware of the 
great responsibility which devolves upon him, in being thus ad- 
mitted into many thousands of families with monthly messages of 
counsel and instruction to the children, which he has the oppor- 
tunity, through the artistic and mechanical resources placed at 
his disposal, to clothe in a form that will be calculated to open to 
him a very easy access to their attention, their confidence, and 
their hearts. He can only say that he will make every exertion 
in his power faithfully to fulfill his trust. 

Jacob Abbott. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER p AGE 

I. THE MAN TURNED OUT . / , , . . . , , ; , , 13 

II. MADAM MARION 15 

HI. THE WINDOW IN THE WALL 37 

IV. KNOCKING AT THE GATE 41 

V. TRAINING 45 

VL BOY TURNED OUT 51 

VII. THE SPIRIT OF. HEAVEN 56 

VIII. DORMANT WICKEDNESS , 68 

IX. FRANKLIN AND COLLINS 73 

X. TAKEN BY SURPRISE ........... 78 

XI. THE STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE ! 1. TRANSGRESSION. . . . 87 

XH. THE STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE J 2. PENITENCE 99 

XIII. THE STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE ‘ 3. REMORSE 108 

XIV. SMUGGLERS 118 

XV. THE BAD AND THE GOOD 128 

XVI. PAYING THE LABORERS 136 

XVII. THE GROUND-SPARROW’S NEST. 139 

XVIH. THE MISER . ' 4 . 146 

XIX. THE FIRE IN THE FIELD 150 

XX. GRAFTING 154 







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4 


ENGRAVINGS. 

« 


PAGE 

man turned out Frontispiece. 

madam Marion’s house 16 

THE COUNTRY INN . . . . 27 

JAMES AND JULIA ... 30 

THE GARDEN 41 

UNCLE BEN 48 

-PULLING OUT THE WEEDS 55 

MADAM MARION . 58 

FALL ON THE ICE . . 61 

THE POOR WANDERERS 64 

THE DOG ON DUTY 66 

THE TIGER IN REPOSE 70 

THE TIGER ON THE WATCH 72 

COLLINS IN THE WATER 76 

JESUS APPREHENDED 85 

THE RABBIT-PEN .' 92 

REMORSE ’ 102 

KILBY 116 

THE SMUGGLERS’ HUTS 118 

DANGEROUS COASTS 123 

SETTING SAIL 125 

THE INTERIOR : 126 

SORTING THE FISHES 131 

FELLING THE TREE 133 

COMPASSION OF JESUS . 134 

SETTLING - 136 

THE LITTLE EGG • 143 

COUNTING HIS MONEY 147 

THE ROBBERS 148 

george’s fire 151 

DRIVING THE TEAM 153 























































































































































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THE STRAIT GATE. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE MAN TURNED OUT. 


A king makes a great feast. The invitations. A man turned out. 

There was once a king who made a great entertainment for 
his people on the occasion of the marriage of his son. He did 
not ask merely the rich and the powerful people of the city to 
come to the feast, but gave an invitation to all. When the time 
arrived, the feast was prepared, the tables were spread, and the 
guests came in. They were all made welcome except one man. 
This man was not properly dressed for such an entertainment, 
and so they turned him out.* 

This story is a parable related by our Savior Jesus Christ. 
“When the king came in to see the guests,” said he, “he saw 
there a man who had not on a wedding garment. And he said 
unto him, Friend, how earnest thou in hither, not having a wed- 
ding garment ? And he was speechless. Then said the king to 
the servants, Bind him, and take him away.” 

In the picture in the frontispiece, we see the king standing in 
the foreground, giving orders to take the man away. Two of the 
attendants have seized him, and are conducting him out. A third 

* See Frontispiece. 


14 


THE MAN TURNED OUT. 


Explanation of the frontispiece. Meaning of the parable. The wedding garment 

is coming with a rope to bind him. They are going to send him 
to prison. He was very wrong to come to such a feast in such at- 
tire, and was guilty of great disrespect to the king and his son by 
the act. He did it on purpose as an act of disrespect, and to 
show what he dared to do. 

In the background are the tables, with the guests seated at them, 
ready to commence the feast. On the left are soldiers armed with 
spears. They are the king’s guards. One of them has a short 
sw^ord by his side, and a battle-ax in his hand. The man him- 
self, whom they are turning out, looks ill-humored and sullen, as 
if he were angry at being sent away. 

And yet it was perfectly right that a man coming to such an 
entertainment in such attire should be immediately put out. His 
coming in that manner was in itself a great breach of proprie- 
ty and decorum. The appearance of such a man at a wedding 
party could only result in disturbing and embarrassing all the oth- 
er guests who should see him, and thus in marring their enjoy- 
ments. It was right to put him out. 

Jesus Christ had a particular meaning in relating this parable. 
The wedding feast w T as intended to denote the kingdom of heaven. 
The guests are the people of this world, who are all invited to pre- 
pare themselves properly, and then go there and enjoy the pleas- 
ures provided for them in those happy mansions. The garments 
represent the temper and spirit of mind which they possess. A 
man or a child who should enter heaven, if such a thing were pos- 
sible, with a bad temper, or with an insubmissive, unjust, or selfish 
spirit, would be unfit to stay there. He would be like a man not 
properly dressed at a wedding. He would not only be unhappy 


MADAM MARION. 


15 


A disconsolate lady. 


She makes a very sensible resolve. 


himself, but his presence would tend to mar the pleasures of the 
rest. If it were possible, therefore, for him to enter, he could not 
be allowed to r.emain. It would be necessary to put him out. 
This is what Jesus Christ meant to teach by this parable. 

The reader will perhaps understand this better by means of the 
next chapter. 


CHAPTER II. 

MADAM MARION. 

Once there was a lady, and her name was Madam Marion. 
She was very rich, but she was very unhappy. Her husband had 
died, and her children had died, and, though still quite young, she 
was left in the world alone. She dressed herself in mourning, shut 
herself up in her house, and spent her time in reading melancholy 
books, and in thinking of her sorrows. She was very unhappy 
indeed. 

At last, one day, after about two years had passed, she arose 
from a sofa on which she had been reclining, wiped the tears away 
from her eyes, and said, “ I have been unhappy long enough ; I 
will not be so any longer. God has taken away, it is true, many 
of my enjoyments, but he has left me a great many others. He 
means that, while he keeps me upon the earth, I should make my- 
self happy with those whom he has left me, and not spend my 
time in mourning uselessly for those that are gone. And I will.” 

“ I will go,” she added, in thinking farther upon the subject, 
“ I will go into the country, and buy me a house, and some gar- 


16 


MADAM MARION. 


Madam Marion purchases a house in the country, View of it. 

dens, and I will make the gardens as beautiful as I can, with walks, 
and parterres, and borders of flowers. I will invite the neighbors 
that live near, and the children, to come and walk in my gardens ; 
and I will send the sick people fruits and flowers. This will 
make them happy, and it will make me happy too.” 

So Madam Marion went into the country, and traveled about 
from place to place, until she found, at last, a house for sale, that 
stood in the midst of gardens and beautiful grounds, near a very 
pleasant village. The place was uninhabited when she found it, 



MADAM MARION’S HOUSE. 


and every thing was neglected. The garden was full of weeds, 
the walls were broken down, and the house itself was deserted and 
lonesome. She observed, however, that it could be made a very 
delightful place ; so she bought it, and immediately employed a 


MADAM MARION. 


17 


She puts her house and grounds in repair. Uncle Ben and his man Thomas. 

great many masons and carpenters to put it in repair. These 
workmen rebuilt the walls of the gardens, they removed the 
whole interior of the house, and erected a porter’s lodge at the 
commencement of the avenue. There were gardeners employed, 
too, who cleared aw r ay all the weeds from the gardens, and pruned 
and straightened the fruit-trees, and planted beds of strawberries 
and raspberries, and trimmed and smoothed the walks, and made, 
in fact, the whole place look charmingly. Behind the house was 
a park with walks and waterfalls, and herds of deer feeding on 
the grass. Here the friends wdiom Madam Marion invited to visit 
her would walk about, amusing themselves with the beauties of the 
scenery, or sitting under the rocks listening to the sound of the 
cascades. There were some places very retired and solitary 
among the rocks, where people could sit in the cool shade, and 
read or meditate at their pleasure. 

At length, after some time, when the house had been complet- 
ed, and the grounds were all put in perfect order, the workmen 
were dismissed, and all the gardeners went away, except one care- 
ful old man, whom they called Uncle Ben, and a younger man, 
named Thomas, who was employed to assist him. Uncle Ben 
remained to keep the gardens in order, and to take care of the fruit 
and flowers. One day Madam Marion came out to walk in her 
grounds, and seeing Uncle Ben at work, training up a grape-vine 
upon a trellis over a bowser, she advanced toward him, and began 
to commend his work. 

“You keep the gardens in very good order,” said she. 

“That is my duty,” said Uncle Ben; “and, besides, it is my 
pleasure. T like to see them in nice order mvself ” 

3 # B 


18 


MADAM MARION. 


Conversation between Madam Marion and Uncle Ben. She forms a plan. 

“ I have been thinking,” said Madam Marion, “ that the chil- 
dren of the town would like to come and walk in my gardens and 
grounds, and I believe I will invite them.” 

“ Oh no !” said the old gardener. 

“Why not ?” asked Madam Marion. 

“ They will spoil them right away,” replied Uncle Ben. “ They 
will trample on the beds and borders, and plunder the flowers, and 
clamber up on the trellises, and break down the branches of the 
trees in trying to get the fruit, and make themselves sick by eat- 
ing too much of it ; and they will chase and frighten the deer in 
the park, and throw stones at the little birds that build their nests 
in the shrubbery; and they will quarrel, and wrestle, and push 
each other about against the beds of flowers, and do a thousand 
other rude and mischievous things.” 

“ I will try them first, then,” said Madam Marion, “ before I 
let them in. I will put them all to the test, and then will only 
admit such into the gardens as I find gentle, obedient, and sub- 
missive to law.” 

Madam Marion had a pleasant little sitting-room in the south 
side of her house, with a piazza before it. In front of the piaz- 
za was a large yard, with green grass in the middle, and shrubbery 
and flowers in the corners. There was a peach-tree on one side, 
trained by a trellis against the wall ; and at this time of the year 
this peach-tree was covered with large, ripe, and rosy peaches. 

^ There was a high wall between this yard and the road, with an 
iron gate in it, by which persons might go out and in. This wall 
was so high that persons passing along the street could not look 
over it, nor could children playing in the yard see what was pass- 


MADAM MARION 


19 


Description of Madam Marion’s yard. The swings. The bower. Children invited. 

ing in the street ; but there was a terrace along the wall on the 
inside which was nearly as high as the wall itself. There were 
two flights of steps leading up to this terrace, one at each end. 
Persons in the yard could thus go up upon the terrace and walk 
along from end to end, and while they were there they could look 
over the wall. 

There were two swings in the yard too. One was between two 
trees, and the other was suspended from a frame made on purpose 
for it. But this frame was covered with vines and creepers, so 
that both the swings were in cool and shady places. 

One other thing must be mentioned. Near the house, and at 
one end of the piazza, was a bower, where there was a table with 
seats around it. The seats were made of the right size for chil- 
dren, and they had cushions upon them, so that they were very 
comfortable. The table, too, was just the right height for the 
children that should sit on the seats, and was very convenient for 
them to put their books on when they wished to read, or for plates 
of fruit and other refreshments. In fact, the bower was quite a 
pleasant place, though it was by no means so pleasant as the Oth- 
er bowers and arbors in the large gardens on the other side of the 
house. 

Into this yard Madam Marion invited the children to come and 
play on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, to try them, in or- 
der to find out how many it would do to trust in her beautiful gar T 
dens. 

While the children were at play in the yard, she used to sit 
upon the piazza watching them; There was a little sofa here in 
one corner, with a work-table before it. Madam Marion would 


20 


MADAM MARION. 


Dory. Madam Marion shows her a little glass bird. 

sit at this table with her work, and there she was watching the 
children all the time, and observing what they said and did, with- 
out, however, appearing to take any notice of them at all. 

There was one child that used to come to Madam Marion’s in 
the afternoon who could not play mu-ch with the other children. 
The reason was, she w T as lame. She walked with a crutch. Her 
name was Dory. At least they called her Dory, though I believe 
her real name was Dorinda. Dory was of a very meek and gen- 
tle disposition, and she liked to talk with Madam Marion very 
much while she was sewing. She used to sit by her side upon a 
little footstool, talking, and watching the other children at their 
plays. 

The first day that Dory came to- Madam Marion’s, after going 
about the yard a little while with her crutch to see what was 
there, she came upon the piazza, and advanced to the place where 
Madam Marion was sitting. Her . attention was immediately at- 
tracted to a beautiful little glass bird that was standing upon the 
work-table. 

“Why, Aunt Marion,” said she, “what is this ?” 

The children always called Madam Marion their aunt. 

“It is a little glass bird,” replied the lady. 

Dory stood looking at the bird very intently for a minute or 
two, holding her crutch in one hand, and having the other hand 
behind her. 

“What a pretty little bird !” said she. 

As she said this, she moved round a. little to the other side of 
the table, in order to see the other wing of the bird more plainly. 

“Would it do for me to take it in my hand ?” said Dory. 


MADAM MARION. 


21 


Dory takes the bird. 


She calls Benny to see it. 


Grant. 


“Yes,” said Madam Marion, “you may take it in your hand.” 

“What a pretty little bird it is !” said Dory, when she had taken 
it in her hand. “I would like to show it to Benny.” 

“Very well ; you may,” said Madam Marion. 

“ Only I won’t carry it out into the yard,” said Dory, “ for fear 
some one should run against me, and break it. I’ll call Benny to 
come and see it here.” 

“Very well,” replied Madam Marion. 

So Dory went to call her little brother Benny. She stood on the 
steps of the piazza, and said, 

“Benny !” 

Benny was playing with a hoop. As soon as he heard Dory’s 
voice calling him, he threw his hoop and stick down upon the 
grass near by, and came running to his sister. Dory showed him 
the little bird, sitting down with him on the steps of the piazza. 
He was extremely pleased to see it. 

After he was satisfied with looking at it, Dory brought the bird 
back to the table, and put it down there, very carefully, in exact- 
ly the same place that she had taken it from. 

Just then, Benny’s cousin, a boy named Grant, who was play- 
ing in the corner of the yard near the terrace, called to Benny to 
come to him. 

“ Benny,” said he, “ come out here.” 

“ No,” said Benny, “ I can’t come.” 

“Ah yes,” said Grant, speaking in a supplicating tone. “ Come, 
do ; I want to show you something.” 

“ No,” said Benny, “ I can’t come.” 

So Benny remained at his seat on the steps. 


22 


MADAM MARION. 


Dory gets an unexpected reward. Conversation with Dory. 

“Do you like that little glass bird?” said Madam Marion to 
Dory. 

“Yes,” said Dory, “ I like it very much indeed.” 

“ I believe I will give it to you, then, for a reward,” said Mad- 
am Marion. 

“ A reward — for what ?” asked Dory. 

“For Benny’s coming to you so quickly,” said Madam Marion. 

“Why, aunt !” exclaimed Dory, “what do you mean by that? 
You should reward Benny, and not me, for that.” 

“No,” said Madam Marion, “I should reward you; for the 
reason why he obeys you and will not obey Grant, is undoubted- 
ly because you manage him right, and Grant, I presume, does 
not. Benny’s coming to you so quick when you called him 
proves that you are just, and considerate, and kind to him. But 
when Grant tells him he has something to show him, he does not 
appear to believe it, and so does not come. This indicates that 
he has been deceived by Grant before, and so does not believe 
him now.” 

Dory listened to this in silence ; she did not know what to say 
in reply. At length, after a pause, she said that she should like 
the little bird very much indeed, but that she did not think she 
deserved it as a reward. 

This conversation between Madam Marion and Dory was car- 
ried on in an under tone, and the place where Benny was sitting 
was a little distance off too, so that he did not hear what* was 
said. He was humming a tune, and amusing himself in building 
a wall with small pebble stones which he picked up from the 
walk. Grant, seeing him thus busily occupied, crept up to the 


MADAM MARION. 


23 


Benny’s hoop and stick. Grant’s mischief. Benny is greatly troubled. 

place where the hoop and stick were lying on the grass, and, tak- 
ing them up, he ran with them to the terrace, and dropped them 
over the wall down into the road. Benny did not see this, nor 
did Dory. Madam Marion saw it, but she did not appear to take 
any notice of it. 

Grant, having thus thrown the hoop and the stick over the wall, 
came walking slowly along to where Benny was sitting, and said, 
“ Benny, where is your hoop ?” 

Benny looked out to the place where he had left his hoop, and 
seeing that it was not there, he started up in great trouble, and 
went to look for it. He felt greatly distressed with the fear of 
losing his hoop, and began to search all about the yard, and to 
ask every body if they had seen it. Grant seemed to enjoy his 
distress and perplexity very much. He whispered to two or three 
of the boys to tell them that he had hid the hoop, and charged 
them not to reveal the secret. Dory, observing Benny’s perplex- 
ity and grief, went to him, and tried to comfort him, and offered to 
help him find his hoop. So she took hold of his hand with one of 
her hands, and holding her crutch with the other, she walked with 
him all about the yard, looking for the hoop every where. 

Madam Marion watched these proceedings very attentively, 
though she appeared to be thinking of nothing but her sewing. 
She knew very well where the hoop was all the time, but she said 
nothing. 

By-and-by Dory gave up the search, and came back with Benny 
to the piazza, to amuse him, if possible, by showing him her bird. 
Madam Marion said that there was a little box to put the bird in, 
and that Dory would find it by opening a drawer in the work- 


24 


MADAM MARION. 


The blue ribbons. Dory receives one for a pass. The window in the wall. 


table. Dory found the box, and put the bird into it. There was 
some cotton in the box to prevent the bird from getting broken. 

As soon as Dory had packed the bird safely in the box, Madam 
Marion asked her to open a certain other drawer in the work- 
table. 

“ There are some blue ribbons in it,” said Madam Marion. 

“Yes,” replied Dory, after she had opened the drawer, “ I see 
them.” Dory looked at the blue ribbons, but she did not touch 
them. 

“ Take up one of them and bring it to me,” said Madam Marion. 

Dory did so. Madam Marion, taking the ribbon, proceeded to 
put it round Dory’s arm, about midway between the wrist and the 
elbow, and then tied the ends in a bow-knot. 

“ There !” said Madam Marion. 

“It is very pretty,” said Dory ; “but what is it for ?” 

“It is your pass,” said Madam Marion. 

“ My pass !” repeated Dory. 

“Yes,” said Madam Marion ; “ it is your pass, to admit you into 
my garden through the window in the wall. 

“You must know,” continued Madam Marion, “that I am go- 
ing to let some of the children go into my gardens, and I am try- 
ing you all now, to find out how many there are that can be safely 
trusted there. There is a window in the wall between the park 
and the gardens. The window is closed by a shutter, and there 
are steps leading up to it. The shutter makes a sort of door. 
There is a knocker on it. When you wish to go in, you must go 
and knock at this knocker. Uncle Ben will then come and open 
the shutter, and if he finds you have a blue ribbon on your arm, 


MADAM MARION. 


25 


Madam Marion’s explanations. Ellen and Jane. The picture-book. 

he will let you go in. I have told him that he must not let any 
body in except those who have blue ribbons on their arms. That 
badge is the pass. I am trying all the children here, and as fast as 
I find they have the right characters to be safely trusted in my 
gardens, I shall put a badge upon them.” 

Dory, on hearing this, looked at the ribbon on her arm with an 
expression of great satisfaction and pleasure. 

“ But, aunt,” said she, at length, “ you have not tried me yet,” 

“ Yes,” said Madam Marion, “ I have been trying you ever since 
you have been here. I see you obey all my directions implicitly. 
You do not touch any thing without leave. Then you are kind to 
Benny. You seem to take pleasure in making him happy, where- 
as some children seem to take pleasure in making others unhappy. 
I should not like to have such children as those go into my gar- 
dens, for they would mar the pleasure of all the rest.” 

Just at this time, two children, named Ellen and Jane, came to- 
ward the piazza. Ellen, seeing the ribbon on Dory’s arm, asked 
what it was for. 

“ I can’t tell you just now,” replied Madam Marion; “ I shall 
explain it by-and-by.” 

“ Ah yes,” said Jane ; “tell us now, auntv — do” 

Madam Marion did not answer. 

“ Have you got a picture-book, Aunt Marion,” said Ellen, “that 
you will lend Jane and me ?” 

Madam Marion opened a drawer in the table, and took out a 
book. She turned over the leaves of this book till she found a 
picture. 

“ There,” said she, “ you may look at that picture, and when 


26 MADAM MARION. 

• Description of the picture. Various objects seen in it. 

you have done looking at that one, shut the book and bring it back 
to me. You may ask me questions about it if you please, and you 
may ask any one of the children to come and see it with you or 
not, just as you choose.” ~ 

“Yes,” said Ellen, “let us ask one of them.” 

“No,” rejoined Jane, “I would not. We can see it a great 
deal better by ourselves alone.” 

So the two girls sat down on the steps of the piazza, and began 
to look at the picture. 

It represented, they found, the yard of a country inn. It was a 
very pleasant place. There was a large tree, with wide-spread- 
ing branches, under which was a seat, with people sitting upon it. 
The sign of the inn was suspended from a wooden bar which pro- 
jected from the body of the tree, just below the branches. There 
was a figure of a lion rampant painted on the sign. A lion ram - 
pant is a lion standing up upon his hind legs, as if in the act of 
springing upon his prey. A lion lying down is called a lion couch- 
ant. It was a lion rampant that was painted on this sign. 

There were five persons represented in the inn-yard. Two of 
them were sitting upon a bench that was placed at the foot of the 
tree. There was a traveler on horseback at the door. He had a 
mug in his hand, with something to drink in it. The landlord was 
standing near. He was apparently talking with the traveler. In 
the foreground, to the right, was a well, with a windlass and a 
bucket. The windlass was covered with a roof. 

A representation of this picture may be seen on the opposite page. 

“ I think it is the picture of an inn,” said Ellen, after looking at 
it a moment. 



‘‘Why ?” asked Madam Marion. 

“ Because I see the sign up. The sign is fastened to a tree. 
There is a lion painted on the sign.” 

“What else do you see about the sign ?” asked Madam Marion, 


THE COUNTRY INN. 


MADAM MARION. 


The picture of the country inn. 


Sign hung from the tree. 


28 


MADAM MARION. 


Conversation between Ellen and Madam Marion about the picture. 

“ I can see the two hinges that it is hung from the beam by,” 
replied Jane ; “ and there is a brace to hold up the beam.” 0 

“ Is the sign fastened to a sign-post ?” asked Madam Marion. 

“ No,” replied. Jane ; “ it is fastened to a great tree, and under the 
tree is a seat, and two people are sitting there talking together. 
And there is a man on horseback at the door,” continued Jane, 
after examining the picture a little farther ; “ I suppose he is a trav- 
eler. He has got a mug in his hand, which seems to be full ; I 
expect it is water. He is thirsty, and has come to ask for a drink 
of water.” 

“ Or beer,” said Ellen. “ Perhaps it is beer.” 

“ No,” rejoined Jane ; “ for there is a well in the foreground, 
and a girl going there with a pail on her head. There is a little 
roof over the well, and a windlass, with a chain and a bucket.” 

“And there is a kind of a hen-coop in the middle of the yard, 
near where the house stands.” 

“ It is not a hen-coop, I believe,” said Madam Marion. 

“What is it, then?” asked Jane. 

“ I believe it is a rack to put hay in, to feed horses.” 

“Ah yes,” said Jane, “I see. It is full of hay now.” 

After looking at the picture for some time longer, Ellen was 
going to £hut up the book, but Jane began to lift up some of the 
other leaves. 

“No,” said Ellen, shaking her head, “ Madam Marion said that 
we must only look at this one.” 

“I am not going to look,” said Jane. “I am only going to 
peep a little. I only want to see if there are any more pic- 
tures.” 


MADAM MARION. 


29 


Jane is displeased, and is sullen. James and Julia. 

“ No,” said Ellen, “ we must shut the book and carry it direct- 
ly back.” 

So saying, Ellen closed the book and carried it back. Jane 
remained on the seat, and said, in a dissatisfied tone, 

“I don’t see why we can’t see some more of the pictures.” 

When Ellen had given the book to Madam Marion, she return- 
ed to Jane. 

“Come, Jane,” said she, “let us go and play.” 

“ No,” said Jane, shaking her head, sullenly. 

“Why, Jane !” said Ellen, “you should not be offended with 
me. It was not my fault, certainly, that you could not see any 
more pictures.” 

Jane did not answer. 

“ Come, Jennie,” said Ellen, “ let us go and play.” 

But Jane would not answer, and so Ellen left her and went 
away. 

There was a boy in the. party named James. He happened 
just at this time to come up to the piazza where Madam Marion 
was seated, leading his little sister Julia by the hand. James was 
very fond of his sister Julia, and, seeing two of the children look- 
ing at a picture-book, he came that way to ask Madam Marion 
if she would let him and Julia see it. 

“You may see one of the pictures, said she, “but only one. 
That is all that Dory has seen.” 

So James took the book, saying, “ Come, Julia,” and led the 
way to a sofa which stood upon the piazza in a sheltered corner, 
near a window which opened down to the ground, and served as 
a door. 


30 


MADAM MARION 



JAMKS AND JULIA 


MADAM MARION. 


31 


James is kind and attentive to his sister. 

James sat down upon this sofa, taking Julia by his side, and 
showed her the picture. They both looked at it very attentively, 
examining every part of it with great care. In fact, they derived 
a much greater degree of enjoyment from it than they would have 
done if they had been at liberty, after glancing at it a moment, to 
turn over the leaves of the book, and find other pictures. 

There was a footstool under the sofa, and James, being habitu- 
ally very kind and attentive to his sister, as gentlemen should al- 
ways be to ladies, however young the parties may be, drew out 
this footstool, and placed it where Julia could put her feet upon it, 
before he commenced showing her the picture. He explained 
every thing in it to her in a very clear and satisfactory manner. 

After James and Julia had looked at the picture long enough, 
they shut the book and carried it back to Madam Marion. She 
took the book and put it in the drawer. 

Soon after this, Madam Marion called to Dory, saying, 

“Dory, I can tell you where Benny’s hoop is. Grant threw it 
over the wall into the road.” 

“ Did he ?” said Dory. “ Then, Benny, I will go. and get it for 
you. You may wait here till I come.” 

“No,” said Madam Marion, “I have another plan. You must 
not go for the hoop yourself, but go and say to Grant that I wish 
to have him go and get it, and bring it in to Benny.” 

So Dory went across the yard to Grant, and delivered the mes- 
sage. Grant looked a little ill-humored at first, but he very soon 
seemed to think it best to obey. So he walked slowly across the 
yard, and out through the gate, and then he went along under the 
wall till he came to the place where the hoop was lying. In- 


32 


MADAM MARION. 


Grant throws Benny’s hoop over the wall. 

stead, however, of bringing it in to Benny, as he had been di- 
rected to do, he threw it over the wall with all his force. The 
hoop went farther, in its flight, than he intended. It bounded en- 
tirely across the yard, and lodged on the top of the wall on the 
other side, just over the trellis that the peach-tree was trained 
upon. 

Dory and Benny stood waiting at the gate while Grant went 
out for the hoop, intending to take it when it was brought in. 
When, however, Benny saw it flying through the air, he was 
much disappointed, and he was particularly troubled when he ob- 
served that it lodged on the top of the wall. 

“ Now, Grant,” said Dory, in a mournful tone, when Grant 
came back to the gate, “ why did you do so ? Aunt Marion 
said that you must bring it in yourself.” 

“ Oh, that’s all the same thing,” said Grant. “ I threw it in.” 

“ But it has gone too far,” said Dory. “ It has lodged on the 
wall.” 

“ Never mind,” said Grant ; “ I’ll climb up and get it. I’ll climb 
up by the trellis.” 

“No,” said Dory, “you must not do that. Aunt Marion said 
that we must not go to that peach-tree at all.” 

“ Then I don’t know what we shall do,” said Grant, “ to get 
back the hoop.” 

There were two boys who happened, just at this time, to be 
standing near the piazza — James, and another boy named Henry. 
Madam Marion, seeing that the hoop had lodged on the top of the 
wall, asked Henry to climb up and get it. 

“ If you are very careful,” said she, “ you can climb up by 


MADAM MARION. 


S3 


James and Henry arrive at the trellis together. Henry is at a loss what to do. 

means of the trellis to the top of the wall. You must, however, 
take good care not to break the peach-tree.” 

“ Let me go,” said James. So saying, he ran off before Henry, 
in order to get to the trellis first. Henry followed him quietly. 
He wished to obey Madam Marion’s command, but he did not 
wish to have any contest about it with James, and so he went 
quietly along, as he would have done if James had not been there. 

When James reached the trellis, he began at once to climb up. 
Henry stood at the foot of it, not knowing how he ought to act. 
To climb up after James would obviously not do, as that would 
overload the trellis, and be almost sure to break it down ; and, 
besides, it would lead, very likely, to some sort of struggle or 
contest on the wall which would be very destructive to the fruit 
on the tree. While he was hesitating, James came down, with 
the hoop in his hand. He ran with it to Madam Marion. 

“ Here is the hoop,” said he. “ I got it.” 

“Yes,” said Madam Marion, quietly. “ In getting it, you meant 
right, but you have done wrong.” 

“ How ?” said James. “ How have I done wrong ? You asked 
us to climb up and get it.” 

“ I asked Henry to do it, not you,” replied Madam Marion. 
“ I have no doubt you went off quick to do it, from a zealous de- 
sire to have my orders obeyed, and to get back Benny’s hoop, 
but that w T as the wrong way. In fact, you prevented my orders 
from being obeyed. You disobeyed one order yourself, and you 
prevented Henry from obeying another.” 

“What order did I disobey?” asked James. 

“ The general order that I gave to you all,” said Madam Ma- 
3 C 


34 


MADAM MARION. 


Madam Marion explains the case to the children. 


Mischief done. 


rion, “ not to go to that peach-tree. That was the order that you 
were under. The new order was given to Henry alone.” 

“ I did not think of that,” said James. 

“ No,” said Madam Marion ; “ and that is the reason I explain 
it to you. You do not deserve any blame for what you did, for 
you had a good intention, so I don’t find fault with you, or do any 
thing to punish you. What boys need, in such cases as this,” 
she added, with a smile, “ is instruction, not punishment. 

“ And I think it will help you all to remember this principle,” 
continued Madam Marion, “ if you, James, should go and put the 
hoop back in the place you took it from, and let Henry go and get 
it, as I ordered him at first. Are you willing to do it ?” 

“ Yes,” said James ; “ I should like to go.” 

So James went back to the trellis, and, climbing up carefully, 
he put the hoop back on the wall. Then he attempted to come 
down. In descending, however, though he tried to be careful, his 
foot unfortunately slipped, and in attempting to save himself from 
falling, he broke down quite a large branch of the peach-tree, and 
all the peaches that were on it came tumbling to the ground. He 
stepped down himself, in utter consternation at the mischief he 
had done. 

He looked up toward Madam Marion. He saw that she ob- 
served that the tree was broken, though. she seemed to take no 
particular notice of it, but went on with her sewing as before. 

“Aunt Marion,” said James, “I have broken down your peach- 
tree dreadfully.” 

“ That is no matter,” said Madam Marion ; “ that was an acci- 
dent. I don’t care any thing about it.” 


MADAM MARION. 


35 


Rankin eats one of the peaches: The children are allowed to disobey if they please. 

A boy named Rankin, who stood there, picked up one of the 
peaches which lay upon the ground. 

“ Rankin,” said James, in a low tone, “you had better not touch 
the peaches. She has not given you leave.” 

“ Oh, she won’t care,” said Rankin. “We may have the peach- 
es now, I know. They are all bruised and broken, and would not 
do to carry into the house.” 

So saying, he put a peach to his mouth, looking at the same 
time toward Madam Marion to see if she would forbid him. She 
observed him, he saw, but she said nothing, and so he considered 
her silence as a tacit consent. He began to bite the peach. One 
or two of the other children then began to take up peaches, look- 
ing all the time toward Madam Marion, to give her an opportunity 
to make objection to what they were doing, if she had any objec- 
tions to make. 

While these things were taking place, Dory was standing near 
Madam Marion. 

“ Aunt,” said she, “ they are eating your peaches.” 

“Yes,” said Madam Marion. 

“ Are you willing to have them?” said she. 

“ No,” said Madam Marion ; “ they are disobeying my orders.” 

“ Then why do you not tell them that they must not do so ?” 
asked Dory. “ Shall I go and tell them ?” 

“ No,” said Madam Marion. “ Leave them at liberty. I am 
trying them. Let them all act out their characters. If they are 
disobedient and insubmissive in spirit, I would rather they should 
show it here than get in my beautiful gardens and do mischief 
there.” 


MADAM MARION. 


36 


Refreshments announced. A scramble. Two boys excluded. 


Thus Madam Marion went on, allowing the children to do just 
as they pleased, while she merely observed them, and as fast as 
she was satisfied that they had such characters as would make it 
safe for them to be admitted to her gardens, she gave them each a 
blue ribbon. For the girls, she tied the ribbon round their arms. 
For the boys, she put it through one of the button-holes of their 
jackets. None of the children, however, except Dory, knew yet 
what the ribbons were for, or why Madam Marion gave them to 
some and withheld them from others. 

At last, about three o’clock in the afternoon, Madam Marion 
called all the children together, and told them she had something 
prepared for them to eat, and she requested them all to go and 
take seats by the table in the bower, saying that when they were 
ready she would ring the bell, and Thomas would bring in what 
she had prepared. 

On hearing this, the children immediately commenced moving 
toward the bower. A great many of them began to run eagerly, 
and crowd by each other in getting in, so as to secure the best 
places. Others walked along quietly, and waited till the rest were 
seated, and then took such places as were left. There were two 
of the children who could not get in at all. There was no room 
for them. They, however, made no complaint, but sat down 
quietly on the steps of the piazza, near the arbor. 

The two who were thus excluded were boys, and they both had 
blue ribbons in their button-holes. In fact, it was observable that 
all those who went in last, and got only such seats as the others 
left, had ribbons, while those who rushed forward to secure the 
best seats were those who had not received ribbons. 


MADAM MARION. 


37 


Thomas brings in the refreshments. The children called to Madam Marion. 


Presently Thomas, a colored man, came in, bringing a large 
tray, with saucers, and spoons, and mugs upon it. These he 
placed upon the table, giving to each of the children a saucer, a 
spoon, and a mug. Then he went out, and presently came in 
again with two great dishes heaped up with ripe raspberries, a 
large pitcher of cream, and a bowl of fine sugar. There were 
also two pitchers, still larger, filled with rich milk, and a great 
basket of cakes — hearts and rounds. These things were placed 
upon the table, and then Thomas proceeded to distribute them, 
giving to each of the children two cakes, a mug of milk, and a 
saucer heaping full of raspberries. Then the sugar and the cream 
were passed around, and each one of the children, after putting on 
as much sugar as they desired, poured on the cream until the sau- 
cer was full to the brim, and the raspberries began to float. All 
the children were treated alike, both those who had ribbons and 
those who had not receiving the same quantity both of cakes and 
raspberries. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE WINDOW IN THE WALL. 

When the feast was ended, Madam Marion called the children 
to come around her on the piazza. 

“ Children,” said she, when they were assembled, “ I am going 
to return into the house now, and let you all go into the park and 
amuse yourselves there without me.” 

“Which is the way into the park ?” raid Grant, interrupting her. 


38 


THE WINDOW IN THE WALL. 


Madam Marion explains her plan to them. The park. The gardens. 

“ Listen,” said Madam Marion, “ and hear all I have to say.” 

“I am going to let you go into the park. You can run about 
there, and play as much as you please. There are smooth roads 
where you can trundle hoops, and grassy lawns where you can 
play ball, and paths leading through the thicket to brooks and 
waterfalls. You can all of you go where you please in the park. 

“ Besides the park there are some gardens. I am going to al- 
low some of you to go into the gardens. It is not safe for any to 
go there but such as are obedient, submissive to law, gentle, and 
kind. If you are disobedient there, you would do a great deal of 
mischief, perhaps, and give Uncle Ben, the gardener, a great deal 
of trouble. If you are not kind, or if you have such dispositions 
as to take pleasure in teasing your playmates, or giving them pain, 
then I ought not to let you go in. I ought not to allow any to go 
in who would, while there, mar the happiness of the rest. If you 
are unsubmissive in spirit, or selfish, or reckless, then you would 
very likely trample on the borders, or break down the fruit-trees 
or the flowers. I have been watching you while you have been 
playing here, to see which of you I could safely trust in my gar- 
dens, and I have given all such a blue ribbon. The blue ribbon 
is their pass.” 

Here the children began to look about at each other, to see who 
had got blue ribbons and who had not* Some who had not re- 
ceived them seemed displeased and looked* sullen. Others ap- 
peared to be disappointed and sorry, but they manifested no par- 
ticular indications of being out of humor. 

“ Now I suppose,” continued Madam Marion, “ that my telling 
you this will cause some of you to feel quite offended. But is it 


THE WINDOW IN THE WALL. 


39 


The window in the wall. The great iron knocker. Uncle Ben. 

not right that I should admit none into my gardens who would in- 
jure or destroy what is there, or who would mar the happiness of 
the others ? You should not feel out of humor at this. On the 
contrary, you should think it is right, and immediately begin to 
form a good character, so that I can give you a blue ribbon too. 

“ The way to the park is through that gate.” 

So saying, Madam Marion pointed to a gate in the wall, in one 
corner of the yard. 

“ You can all go through that gate,” continued the lady, “and 
play in the park where you please. In one place there is a sum- 
mer-house near the garden wall. Near that summer-house, in a 
corner, are some stone steps, leading up to a window in the wall. 
Those who have blue ribbons can go up there and knock. There 
is a great black iron knocker on the shutter of the window. When 
you knock there, Uncle Ben will come ; and if you have a blue 
ribbon on your arm, or in your button-hole, he will let you in. 
Now you can all go.” 

So the children began to move toward the park gate. Those 
who had blue ribbons were full of joy and happiness, but the rest 
walked along rather slowly and sadly. There was one girl, named 
Joanne, who would not go at all. She turned away as soon as 
Madam Marion had done speaking, and walked toward the gate 
which led into the street. She said she did not see why she could 
not have a blue ribbon as well as the rest of the girls ; and if she 
could not go into the gardens, she would go home. 

She looked round when she got to the gate, thinking that Mad- 
am Marion would probably call her back, and say that she would 
give her a blue ribbon rather than have her go home in displeas- 


40 


THE WINDOW IN THE WALL. 


The reason why Joanne did not receive a blue ribbon. 


ure ; but Madam Marion said nothing to her, and so she went 
away. 

The reason why Joanne did not get a blue ribbon was, that Mad- 
am Marion heard her speak in a very heartless and cruel manner 
of Dory, because she was lame. She told one of her companions, 
speaking loud enough for Dory to hear, that she thought girls lame 
enough to walk with crutches might as well stay at home, and 
not be coming to parties, and making themselves ridiculous. Mad- 
am Marion thought, very justly, that a girl who cherished such 
feelings as those toward the unfortunate, would be likely to spoil 
the happiness of any. circle to which she might be admitted. 

The rest of the children went into the park, and those who had 
blue ribbons soon found the summer-house, and the steps leading 
up to the window in the wall. They went up one by one, and 
knocked. Uncle Ben came when they knocked, but he was very 
particular about letting them in. He opened the door but a very 
little way until he saw that the one who was there had a blue rib- 
bon. As soon as he saw that, he let him in. 

The children who went in found the gardens very beautiful in- 
deed. There were a great many walks in them ; some were 
straight, and others went winding about in endless mazes. And 
there were beautiful flowers, and ripe fruits, . and gay borders and 
parterres ; and in one place there was a pond, with a very pretty 
boat drawn up to the shore. 

The children remained in the gardens all the afternoon, and 
had a very pleasant time. On the top of the next page you see a 
picture of some of them amusing themselves with a little wheel- 
barrow which they found there. 


KNOCKING AT THE GATE. 


41 


The children in the garden with the little wheel-barrow. 



THE GARDEN. 


They had one trouble ; but that will be explained in the next 
chapter but two in this book. 


CHAPTER IV. 

KNOCKING AT THE GATE. \ 

“Many shall seek to enter in, and shall not be able.” 

Imagine to yourselves a company of men knocking at the gate 
of a castle in time of war, and waiting to have the gate opened 
that they may go in. Imagine the expression of suspense and 
anxiety that would be seen in their countenances. They begin, 
at length, to despair. They think that the doors will not be open- 



42 


KNOCKING AT THE GATE. 


The strait gate. What is meant by it. A state of trial. 

ed to them. They have never been friends to the lord of the cas- 
tle, though now, because danger is impending, they come and de- 
sire him to let them in. They know, however, that they do not 
deserve to be admitted. One of the number, perhaps, is knock- 
ing timidly, and listening to hear if any one will come. The rest 
wait in anxious suspense and fear. 

Such a scene as this illustrates what Jesus said about enter- 
ing heaven. It is a strait gate, he said, that leads to heaven. 
Strait, in this sense, means strict , difficult — that is, a gate where it 
is hard to get in. Many shall knock, when the time comes at 
last, he said, and call out, “ Lord, Lord, open unto us ; and the 
Lord shall say, I know ye not, whence ye are. Depart from me, 
all ye workers of iniquity.” No workers of iniquity can be al- 
lowed to enter in. 

Jesus taught his disciples that, since the rule of admission to 
heaven is thus so strict, they should all strive to prepare themselves 
for it in season. In this world we are all on trial. The children 
in Madam Marion’s grounds were on trial. She allowed them to 
do as they pleased, and act out their characters freely, whatever 
their characters might be. The disobedient, the insubmissive, 
the malicious, the stubborn, had full liberty to show what they 
were. Madam Marion did not interfere with them ; she did not 
reproach them ; she did not punish them ; she did not even with- 
hold from them any of the kindness which she showed to the 
rest. Grant and Joanne were invited into the arbor as well as 
Dory and Henry. In fact, they took the best seats there, and 
Madam Marion did not interfere to prevent them. When Grant 
threw Benny’s hoop over into the road, and when Joanne spoke 


KNOCKING AT THE GATE. 


43 


This world is a state of trial and probation. 


Bible lesson. 


so unkindly about Dory, Madam Marion did not interfere. She 
kept silence, and let those who were injured bear their troubles 
as they best could. They were all on trial, and she wished to 
have their characters acted out to the full. 

It is so in this world, which is a world of trial and probation. 
The wicked are, in a great measure, free to act as their wicked 
propensities dictate, and the weak and the helpless have to suffer 
in silence. But the end is coming by-and-by. 

Read now, slowly and attentively, these verses from the Bible, 
and see if you understand them. They are arranged in two les- 
sons — excellent lessons for children to learn. 

Lesson I. 

“The Lord looketh from heaven. He beholdeth all the chil- 
dren of men. 

“ From the place of his habitation, he looketh upon all the in- 
habitants of the earth. 

“ He considereth all their works.” 

“ Fret not thyself because of evil-doers, neither be thou envious 
against the workers of iniquity ; for they shall soon be cut down 
like the grass, and wither like the green herb. 

“ Trust thou in the Lord, and do good ; 

“ And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and 
thy judgment as the noon-day. 

“ Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him. Fret not thy- 
self because of him who prospereth in his way — because of him 
who bringeth wicked devices to pass. 


44 


KNOCKING AT THE GATE. 


Another Bible lesson. The conclusion of the matter. 

“ For yet a little while, and the wicked shall not be. 

“ But the meek shall inherit the earth, and shall delight them- 
selves in the abundance of peace.” 

Lesson II. 

“ After this I beheld, and lo, a great multitude, which no man 
could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and 
tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed 
with white robes, and palms in their hands ; 

“ And one of the elders answered, saying unto me, What are 
these which are arrayed in white robes ? and whence came they ? 

“ And I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said to me, 
These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have 
washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the 
Lamb. 

“ Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him 
day and night in his temple ; and he that sitteth on the throne 
shall dwell among them. 

“ They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither 
shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. 

“For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed 
them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters ; and 
God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” 

The substance of it all is, that we can none of us, old or young, 
hope to enter heaven, unless the spirit of heaven reigns in our 
hearts ; and if this spirit is found in us while we are on earth, we 
shall be sure of peace and happiness unbounded, at last, above. 


TRAINING. 


45 


What the children found when they entered the garden. 

whatever may have been the trials and troubles which we have to 
endure here below. 

But what is the spirit of heaven ? 

We shall see. 


CHAPTER V. 

TRAINING. 

The children whom Uncle Ben admitted into Madam Marion’s 
garden found a most delightful scene presenting itself before 
them as soon as they had passed through the window in the wall. 
They came out upon a terrace, or landing, with steps leading 
down from it to the walks and flower-beds below. 

There were a great many arbors, and trellises, and fruit-trees, 
both standard and espalier.* 

After Uncle Ben had let the children in, he remained behind on 
the terrace, to lock and bolt the shutter which closed the window 
in the wall, so that the children who had no badge could not get 
in. The wall was very high, and they could not possibly climb 
over it, even if any of them had been disposed to get into the 
garden in such a way. 

Uncle Ben was very taciturn in his disposition, so he said very 
little to the children as they went down the steps into the garden. 
He, however, gave them some directions. 

* Fruit-trees which grow by themselves, in their natural form, are called stand- 
ards. Those that are trained artificially, against trellises or walls, are called es- 
paliers. A trellis is a frame made to train trees or vines upon. 


46 


TRAINING. 


Uncle Ben’s directions. The pond and the boat. Restrictions. 

“You must not touch any of the fruit, or any of the flowers,” 
said he. “ By-and-by, before you go home, I will give you some 
fruit, and I will give each of you a bouquet.” 

“ Yes,” said Dory, “ that will be better ; for, if we had the flow- 
ers now, they would wilt before we go home.” 

“You may ramble about wherever you please,” continued the 
gardener ; “ but you must not run , except when the walks are 
broad and straight. If you run round corners and in narrow paths, 
you will be in danger of treading on the beds . and flowers.” 

“We’ll be very careful,” said the children. 

“ Madam Marion told me,” continued the gardener, “ that I 
might depend upon it that all the children who had blue ribbons 
would do exactly as I should say.” 

“Yes, we will,” said the children. 

“ In one of the gardens,” continued Uncle Ben, “ you will find a 
pond, wflth swans and Muscovy ducks swimming in it. There is 
a boat there. You may get into the boat, if you please, but you 
must not go out very far.” 

“ How far may we go ?” asked Dory. 

“Why, you must not go beyond the lilies,” replied Uncle Ben. 
“ You’ll see some lilies out in the pond ; you must not go beyond 
them, for there is a place beyond the lilies, under the trees which 
hang over the banks on the side of the pond, where the water is 
very deep, and if the boat should upset there, you would be 
drowned. This side of the lilies it is very shallow, and it would 
not do much harm even if you should upset.” 

“ I should not dare to upset in a boat,” said Dory, “ even if the 
water was not deep.” 


TRAINING. 


47 


Directions about the boat. 


Dory and Mary stop to see Uncle Ben. 


“ The boat won’t upset,” replied the gardener, “unless you up- 
set it on purpose. You’ll be safe enough if you do not go beyond 
the lilies. And you must not do any thing to tease or frighten the 
swans and ducks.” 

“ Oh no,” said Henry. 

“ I suppose you will do just as I tell you,” said the gardener ; 
“ if I did not, I shouldn’t dare to have you go in the boat at all.” 

“ Yes,” said Henry, “we certainly will.” 

So Henry went away, leading with him all the children that de- 
sired to go and sail on the pond in the boat. 

Children who are known to obey the directions which are given 
them can be allowed to have much more liberty, in respect to 
their enjoyments, than those who are insubmissive and disobedi- 
ent. 

“ Uncle Ben,” said Dory, “ what are you going to do ?” 

“ Can I do any thing for you ?” asked Uncle Ben. 

“ No,” said Dory ; “ only we should like to stop a little while, 
and see you work, if you have no objection.” 

“ No,” said Uncle Ben, “ I have no objection.” 

So Uncle Ben returned to his work. Some of the children 
stopped to see what he was doing. 

Dory was among those that stopped. She could not walk so 
fast as the rest, and so she stopped to see what Uncle Ben was 
doing. 

There was a little girl, named Mary, who stopped with her. 
Dory and the other children began very soon to ramble about in 
the neighboring alleys, but Mary remained standing by Uncle Ben, 
in order to see what he was going to do. 


48 


TRAINING 




r 


Little Mary talking with Uncle Ben. The watering-pot. 

He was going to rake a bed where some beautiful flowers were 
growing. The place was in a corner of the garden, near an old 
wall. There was a watering-pot near, and Mary asked Uncle 
Ben if she might take the watering-pot and water the flowers. 



CNOt.E BEN 


TRAINING 


49 


Uncle Ben goes to training an espalier tree. 

“ Yes,” said Uncle Ben ; “but I am afraid it is too large for you. 
But you may try. You may water this bed as soon as I have fin- 
ished raking it.” 

Presently Dory came and proposed to Mary that they should 
go round the corner of the wall and see what there was there. 

“ Yes,” said Mary ; “ you may go, and I will come presently, as 
soon as I have watered this bed.” 

So Dory went round the corner of the wall, while Mary re- 
mained standing near Uncle Ben, waiting to water the flowers. 
When at length the bed was ready, she found that she could wa- 
ter it very well, although the watering-pot was so large. 

After Uncle Ben had finished this work, he went away, with 
Dory and Mary, to another place, where there was an espalier 
pear-tree which he was training against a frame. The frame had 
been set up behind the tree, and the branches of the tree, extend- 
ing on each side, were trained to it in a very regular manner. All 
the branches lay close to the frame. There were none coming out 
in front or back, so that the tree was perfectly fiat. The branch- 
es were full of nice pears, nearly ripe. Uncle Ben was tying up 
one of the branches which was heavily loaded. 

“ How can you make a pear-tree grow in such a shape as this ?” 
said Dory. 

“ By training it,” said Uncle Ben. “ You see we take it when 
it is young, and we train the side branches to the trellis, bending 
them to their places when they are small and slender, and if any 
buds come out in front or back, we blind them.” 

“ What do you mean by blinding them ?” asked Dory. 

“ Why, we nip them in,” said the gardener. 


50 


TRAINING. 


Conversation with Dory about training espaliers. 


Dory did not understand any better what was meant by nipping 
in than by blinding. If the gardener had said that he rubbed them 
off, so as to prevent their growing, he would have been much more 
intelligible. 

“ Could I make an espalier pear-tree asked Dory. 

“ Yes,” said the gardener, “if you had patience and persever- 
ance enough.” 

“ I have not a great deal of time” said Dory, hesitatingly. 

“ It does not require much timey” said the gardener ; “ that is, 
you do not have to give a great deal of time to the work yourself ; 
it is only patience to wait for the tree to grow. You see you get 
a young pear-tree, and set it out against the wall, in your moth- 
er’s yard. You rub off all the front and back buds ; you also nip 
off the top buds.” 

“ What is that for ?” asked Dory. 

“ To throw the sap into the side buds,” said Uncle Ben, “ and 
make them grow out into side branches faster. Then, as fast as 
the side branches grow, train them against the wall just as you 
wish to have them lie, and nail them there. You nail them with 
little tags of leather.” 

“ But I haven’t got any leather,” said Dory. 

“ Little strips of cloth will do just as well,” said Uncle Ben. 

“Well,” said Dory, “I suppose I could get little strips of cloth. 
But then I have not got any pear-tree.” 

“You must plant a seed this fall,” replied Uncle Ben, “and 
then you will have a little tree in the spring. You had better 
plant a dozen seeds, for one might fail to grow. Plant a dozen, 
and then choose the best little tree you get among them all.” 


BOY TURNED OUT. 


51 


Dory is in doubt. An alarm. Outcries of children. 

“ But I have not got any seeds,” replied Dory. 

“ I will give you a pear when you go away from here to-day,” 
answered Uncle Ben, “ and you can save the seeds from that.” 

Dory was, at first, quite pleased with this plan ; but then, on 
reflecting how long it would be before this idea could be realized, 
she seemed to think it was a great while to wait. 

“ I must wait till the fall,” she said, “ before I plant the seeds. 
Then they will not come up before the spring. Then, I suppose, 
it will be two years, at least, before there are any branches big 
enough to train.” 

“Yes,” replied Uncle Ben. “I told you it would require a 
great deal of patience.” 

“ But I mean to do it,” said Dory, “ if it does take time.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

BOY TURNED OUT. 

Some other children had joined Mary and Dory while they were 
talking with Uncle Ben, and they remained by him, watching his 
operations, and rambling about in the alleys, and among the beds 
and borders near, for about half an hour. At the end of that time 
they were all alarmed at hearing the sound of a loud screaming 
in the direction where the other children had gone. 

Now there is nothing more variously expressive than the out- 
cry of a child. Although the sound is entirely inarticulate, it still 
expresses, with great plainness and accuracy, almost the precise 
character of the emotion that awakens it. There are cries of dis- 


52 


BOY TURNED OUT. 


Uncle Ben resolves to go and see what is the matter. 

tress, cries of pain, cries of anger, cries of terror, and cries of re- 
monstrance. The cry which the gardener, and the children who 
were near him, heard, seemed to be one of fear and remonstrance 
combined. It was not such a scream of terror or pain as would 
lead the hearer to drop every thing, and run to ascertain the cause, 
but still it indicated some serious trouble. 

“Yes,” said Uncle Ben, after he had listened to it for a moment, 
“ that is just what I told Madam Marion, if she let the children 
come into these gardens. They have got to quarreling. Let’s go 
and see what is the matter.” 

So Uncle Ben put down his working implements, and began to 
walk down an alley in the direction whence the sounds proceeded. 
The children, all except Dory, ran on before him. Dory, who 
could not run very well, walked along by Uncle Ben’s side. Thus 
the party went on until they came to the pond, where they soon 
saw what was the matter. 

Several of the children were in the boat, which had been pushed 
out a little from the shore, and among them was one boy, rather 
larger than the rest, who was rocking the boat backward and for- 
ward, in order to frighten the children, and make them think he was 
going to upset them. The children were, in fact, quite frighten- 
ed, and they called upon the boy to stop. They begged him, 
moreover, to push the boat back to the shore, and let them get 
out, but he would not. He continued to rock the boat back and 
forth, while they screamed with terror. The more they scream- 
ed, the more amused and pleased he seemed to be. 

“Who is that boy ?” said Uncle Ben. 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” said Dory ; “ I don’t believe he can 


BOY TURNED OUT. 


53 


A boy without a blue ribbon. He must be put out. 

have a blue ribbon. Madam Marion would not give a blue ribbon 
to such a boy as that.” 

When the boy saw the gardener coming, he stopped rocking 
the boat, and the children, looking upon Uncle Ben as their pro- 
tector, at once felt relieved. One of them put an oar out, and be- 
gan to push the boat toward the shore. The boy did not now at- 
tempt to prevent this, so that the children soon got to the shore, 
and all stepped out upon a little pier which was built near the 
place for a landing. The boy himself came out at last, and 
then the gardener saw that, as Dory had surmised, he had no blue 
ribbon. 

“What business have you here ?” said the gardener to the boy, 
seizing him as he stepped upon the pier. “What business have 
you here, troubling these children ?” 

“ I wasn’t troubling them,” said the boy. 

“ Not troubling them ?” repeated Uncle Ben. 

“ No,” said the boy ; “ I wasn’t going to upset the boat.” 

The gardener did not reply to this ridiculous defense, but look- 
ed upon the boy with an expression of strong displeasure in his 
countenance. 

“ And besides,” he added, “ how came you in here, without a 
blue ribbon ?” - 

The boy hung his head, and did not answer. 

“You must put him out, Uncle Ben,” said the children. 

“ Yes,” said Uncle Ben ; “ I shall put him out, you may depend.” 

So Uncle Ben went away, leading the boy away with him. 
After he was gone, the children got into the boat again, and had 
a very good time. 


54 


BOY TURNED OUT. 


How the boy got in without a blue ribbon. 


Jesus Christ, in the parable of the man who came to the feast 
without a wedding garment, and was consequently turned out, did 
not mean to have us suppose that there could be any way by which 
selfish and wicked men could really get into heaven, and stay 
there, making mischief and trouble until they were expelled. That 
can never be. None can ever enter there but those whose hearts 
are holy, pure, and full of love. The parable is only meant to 
make it certain for us that all the bad will be excluded, by show- 
ing that if, by possibility, any should get in, it would be immedi- 
ately necessary to turn them out again. 

In respect to the boy who troubled the children in the boat, 
though the gardener asked him repeatedly how he got in, he would 
not tell. The truth was this. 

There was a ladder which the masons had left in a yard near 
the house, leaning against a small granary which stood close to 
the garden wall. The boy, in walking along the street, saw this 
ladder, and so he went into the yard through a small gate that was 
open, and began to mount it. From the roof of the granary he got 
over upon the garden wall, and then, creeping along the wall, 
among the tops of the trees and shrubbery which overhung it, he 
advanced till he came to a place where there was a small summer- 
house in a grove. The summer-house was built against the wall. 
The boy contrived to climb down into the garden by the trellis- 
work of the summer-house. His object was to get some fruit. 
He did take some pears and peaches, and he ate them as he walked 
along the alleys. At length, when he saw the children get into 
the boat, he thought it would be a good opportunity to have “ some 


BOY TURNED OUT. 


55 


Uncle Ben’s man Thomas. Pulling out weeds. 

fun,” as he called it, by frightening them. So he ran suddenly 
down to where they were, and, jumping into the boat, pushed it 
off before the children could get out of it. Then he began rock- 
ing the boat from side to side, and continued in other ways to tease 
and trouble the children until the gardener came. 

The children told Uncle Ben that they were very much obliged 
to him for sending that boy away. 

“Yes,” said Uncle Ben; “such boys as these ought to be got 
out of all good company, just as my man Thomas would pull out 
weeds from among my roses.” 



PULLING OUT THE WEEDS. 


56 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 


The three elements of the spirit of heaven. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 

Three things at least are necessary to form in our hearts the 
spirit of heaven.. 

I. A spirit of gratitude to God. 

II. Of kindness and good-will to man ; and, 

III. Of submission to duty and law. 

L GRATITUDE TO GOD. 

Among the boys who went to Madam Marion’s there was one 
who did not really do any thing particularly wrong there — he did 
not tease or trouble the other children, or make mischief in any 
way. And yet neither Madam Marion herself, nor the children 
who received blue ribbons, wished to have him admitted into the 
gardens. 

This unwillingness arose from the ingratitude and disrespect 
which the boy manifested toward Madam Marion herself. 

This boy’s name was Turner. He was older than most of the 
other children. His father was rich, and he was himself of a proud 
and lofty spirit, as is very often the case with weak and foolish 
boys and girls whose fathers are thought to be rich. 

When Turner received the invitation to go to Madam Marion’s, 
he seemed at first to consider it very doubtful whether it would 
be worth his while to accept it. He sat upon the steps of his fa- 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 


57 


Turner’s character. True manliness and false. Turner’s rudeness. 


ther’s house, with some other boys who were there, tapping his 
boot with a little ratan that he held in his hand, and assuming the 
airs of a grown-up man, which, as he was still quite a small boy, 
made him appear in a very ridiculous light. 

It is a very excellent thing for a boy to be manly, but the man- 
liness must be of the right kind. It must not consist in mere out- 
ward show and demeanor. If, for example, a boy interests him- 
self in taking care of his father’s property, if he puts the shop or 
the yard in order of his own accord, or mends the tools, or in- 
structs or protects his younger brothers and sisters — that is being 
manly in the proper sense, for it is an imitation of the high and 
noble qualities of mind which mark the character of the man. In 
the same manner, if a boy, whose father is dead, devotes himself 
, to the care of his mother and of the other children, if he watches 
over them, and earns money to maintain them, and makes pur- 
chases for them, and in other ways, so far as is possible, takes his 
father’s place, such a boy is manly in the right way. He thinks 
and feels as a man would, in a similar situation. He takes the 
position, and, in a great measure, fulfills the functions of a man. 

But Turner merely mimicked the outward dress and manners 
of a man. 

“ Shall you go ?” said one of his companions to him. 

“Why — I — don’t know,” said he, answering very hesitatingly. 
“I believe the old lady has got some first-rate fruit on her prem- 
ises. If I thought she would treat us well with that, I don’t know 
but that I might go.” 

Turner used the expression old lady as a term of ridicule and 
disrespect, for Madam Marion was not an old lady in reality. 


58 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN 


Picture of Madam Marion showing a little girl the chickens. 


She was quite a young lady, as is evident from this picture of her, 



MADAM MARION. 


where she is seen showing one of the children some chickens and 
a hen in a neighbor’s yard. She used often to take walks in this 
way with the children, and show them things that they liked to see. 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 


59 


Turner’s behavior at Madam Marion’s. His heartless mode of speaking. 

The hen is in a coop, which consists of a frame made of sticks 
neatly fastened together. There are three chickens outside of the 
coop. They are playing about a basin of water. One of them is 
trying to drink. 

The child is asking Madam Marion why they shut up the poor 
hen in the coop, and not allow her to come out and play with her 
chickens. 

But to return to the story. 

Turner finally concluded to go to Madam Marion’s ; but, when 
he was there, he seemed to take no interest in the amusements and 
pleasures of the place, nor in the happiness of the other children. 
He sauntered about with a proud and lofty air, as if he were above 
such enjoyments and plays as the other children were engaged in. 
He also kept entirely away from Madam Marion. He did not 
even go to speak to her when he first came in. 

When, however, he saw Thomas bringing the fruit in, he ran 
very eagerly to get the best place in the arbor, and he helped him- 
self there very plentifully to sugar and cream. After he had fin- 
ished eating the fruit, he turned to his next neighbor, and said, in 
an under tone, 

“Well, Jemmy, old aunty’s raspberries are first rate, but I do 
not see why she could not give us some grapes besides. I sup- 
pose she must have some that are ripe by this time, in some of her 
hot-houses.” 

Madam Marion did not hear this remark, but then she perceived 
at once what the spirit and temper of mind were which Turner 
possessed. She was very much pained to observe it. She her- 
self felt a strong sentiment of kindness and good-will toward the 


60 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 


The spirit which Turner manifested is very common. 


children, and wished to make them all happy. She wished, too, 
that they should all cherish a kind and affectionate feeling toward 
her. That would have been her reward. They who love chil- 
dren always desire to have children love them ; and this was par- 
ticularly the case with Madam Marion, who, having lost her hus- 
band and her own children, felt a very strong desire to attract to 
herself the kind regards of those who came to see her. Thus the 
ingratitude and heartlessness of Turner gave her a great deal of 
pain. 

There are a great many people in this world who treat their 
heavenly Father just as Turner treated Madam Marion. They 
greedily seize all the good gifts which his kindness bestows upon 
them, but they feel no gratitude or love for him in return. Their 
hearts are alienated from him. In fact, they never think or speak 
of him at all, except to use his name sometimes flippantly in con- 
versation, or with levity and contempt. Such persons, if their 
hearts remain as they are now, can not hope to be admitted to 
heaven. If they were to get in in any way, they would only mar 
the general happiness there, and would have to be turned out. 

II. KINDNESS AND GOOD-WILL TO MAN. 

The spirit of kindness and good-will for others will not only 
prevent our taking pleasure in teasing or tormenting them, as 
malicious and cruel people do, but will lead us to compassionate 
and help them in their distress. Those who have the spirit of 
heaven will not stand or sit idly by when they see others in trou- 
ble. They will take pleasure in going as soon as possible to help 
them. 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 


61 


The boys on the ice. Egbert and Erskine. Erskine has a fall. 


Here is a picture of a boy fallen upon the ice. There is an- 
other boy near, but he does not pity him, or offer to help him. 



The boys’ names are Egbert and Erskine. It is Erskine who has 
fallen upon the ice. The way it happened was this : 

Egbert was putting on his skates, when Erskine, who has no 
skates of his own, came along to the place, running and sliding. 

“ Egbert,” said Erskine, “ may I try on one of your skates a 
little, while you are putting on the other ?” 

“I don’t care,” said Egbert. 

So Erskine took one of the skates, and applied his foot to the 
w T ood, and then attempted to slide along upon it. The skate, how- 
ever, was so slippery that he could not control it at all. It seem- 
ed to run off with him over the ice, while he attempted to save 


62 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN 


Egbert’s indifference. A philosophical question. 

himself with the other foot ; but all in vain. He fell down heav- 
ily upon his face, while the skate glided away toward a hole in the 
ice near by, where some ducks were swimming. 

Egbert saw the fall, and heard poor Erskine cry bitterly, but 
he did not go to help him. He did not even look up, but went on 
buckling his straps. Finally he said, 

“ Come, Erskine, stop that noise, and bring me my other 
skate.” 

Such kind of indifference to the sufferings of those around us 
is by no means the spirit of heaven. 

And now, here is a philosophical question to be considered. 
Suppose that Egbert’s skate had glided on till it came to the edge 
of the ice at that hole, and so had gone into the water, would it 
have sunk or floated? A skate is made partly of iron, and this 
would tend to make it sink. It is also made partly of wood, and 
this would tend to make it float. Which tendency would have 
prevailed ? 

There are some large boys skating on the same pond. One of 
them is coming as fast as he can to help Erskine up. The others 
do not hear. On the left, in the distance, under a willow-tree, is 
a lady coming upon the ice. She is somewhat afraid. A gentle- 
man is assisting her. He tells her that there is no danger. 

On the right, near the bank, under another tree, is a man sit- 
ting on a stone, while his son is putting on his skates for him. 
He is an elderly gentleman, who used to skate when he was a 
boy, and now he has come down to see if he can skate still. His 
son persuaded him to come. 

“ I will put the skates on for you, father,” said he, “ and you 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 


63 


Various groups and parties on the ice. Selfishness not always malicious. 

shall have nothing to do but to skate about and enjoy yourself, 
just as you used to do when you were no bigger than I am.” 

So the man concluded to go, and his son is putting on his skates 
for him. 

This son takes pleasure in amusing and gratifying his father. 
The man would not have thought of such a thing as coming down 
to skate, if his son had not proposed it to him, and invited him to 
come. But he is pleased to come, since his son invites him, and 
seems to desire it. 

The gentleman, too, who is guiding the lady upon the ice, takes 
pleasure in amusing and gratifying her. He is not indifferent to 
the happiness of others. 

But Egbert does not care. It makes no difference to him 
whether those around him are happy or in pain. If they are 
happy, he has no objection, but it gives him no pleasure ; and if 
they are suffering, he feels no concern. 

There are, in fact, very few people in the world who are abso- 
lutely malicious, that is, who take a positive pleasure in produc- 
ing and witnessing pain and suffering. Most people are very will- 
ing that others should be happy, provided that they themselves 
are not required to submit to any sacrifice or self-denial to make 
them so. But it is not enough for us to be willing that those 
around us should be happy. We must strongly desire that they 
should be so, and must be spontaneously inclined to do all that we 
can to promote their happiness, and not, like Egbert, be indifferent 
in respect to the welfare of others, provided that we can go on un- 
interruptedly in the pursuit of our own pleasures. Egbert thought 
of nothing but of getting his own skates on, and beginning his play. 


64 


THE SPIRIT OP HEAVEN. 


The inhuman servant. 


Famine. 


Despair. 


Here is another very striking example of indifference to the 
sufferings of others. Some poor, miserable people, in time of 



THE POOR WANDERERS. 


famine, are traveling, and, tired with their journey, and faint 
and exhausted for want of food, they have stopped to rest at a 
rich man’s door. The servant, dressed in a splendid livery^ has 
come out to drive them aw T ay. The woman clasps her hands in 
despair. The boy has lain down on his back upon the stone side- 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 


65 


Kind-heartedness. 


Ways in which it manifests itself in children. 


walk, and has gone to sleep. The baby is asleep, too, on his fa- 
ther’s shoulder. The man is lame, and poor, and ragged, and 
wretched. He does not know what to do. He is trying to get 
back to his native town, in hopes that he can find some work tc 
do there, or, if he can not find work, he hopes to find kindness 
and charity. The servant, however, cares nothing for all this 
misery. He looks at the poor wretches with a proud and scorn- 
ful countenance, and orders them to go away. 

This is not the spirit of heaven. 

Some children seem to take a great deal of interest and pleas- 
ure in relieving all the pain and suffering they see. If they find 
a child in the street in any difficulty or trouble, they stop and 
help him. If a bird should, by chance, get entangled in the bushes, 
they would wish to open the bushes and let it fly away. If their 
little sister is sick, they do all they can to comfort or to amuse her. 
They read to her, watch by her bedside, and take pains to be very 
still. If they hear a child cry, or even a kitten mew, they go to 
see what is the matter, and they relieve the distress if they can. 
They do not feel happy themselves as long as there is any un- 
happiness around them. They do not like to see a bird in a cage, 
for fear that the poor little prisoner might be discontented there ; 
and they step carefully out of the way, when they are walking in 
the garden alley, to avoid treading on the little sand-hills which 
the ants are building there around their holes. 

Such a child carries sunshine and happiness wherever she goes. 
She is the joy of her father and mother, of her brothers and sis- 
ters, and of all her playmates and friends. Every body loves her ; 
and, though she does not seek her own happiness, but only the 
3 " E 


66 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 



The third element. 


Picture of a dog on duty. 


happiness of others, her heart is full of peace and joy all the time. 
The spirit which she feels is the spirit of heaven, and’ she lives in 
a sort of heaven all the day. God loves her, and she loves him. 
She seeks to obey all his commands, and to do her duty in all 
things ; and every morning and evening she asks his forgiveness 
for all her failings and sins, and commits herself with confiding 
trust and confidence to his care. 

This is the spirit of heaven. 


III. SUBMISSION TO DUTY AND LAW. 

A wolf and a dog look very much alike, but there is this differ- 
ence between them : that a dog can be taught to do duty, the wolf 
can not. 

Here is the picture of a dog on duty. He is watching. His 


master is a traveler. The man’s staff and 
his bundle are lying by his side. He has 
put his cap against the tree for a pillow, to 
rest his head upon, and has fallen asleep. The dog is watching. 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 


67 


Description of the picture. Difference between the dog and the wolf. 

The dog is tired himself, and would like to lie down and go to 
sleep too, but he prefers to do his duty. His duty is, he knows, to 
keep awake and watch. 

The man trusts entirely to the faithfulness of his dog. He puts 
his hand confidingly over his dog’s neck, and goes to sleep with- 
out any concern. 

The day is warm, and the man has laid himself down under 
the shade of a tree. He is in a pasture near the road side. 
There are cows and sheep in the pasture. A cow and a sheep 
are lying down near the man. Another cow is rubbing her head 
against a tree on the left. Others are cooling themselves by 
standing in the water. If any of them were to come so near the 
man as to be in danger of treading upon him, the dog would keep 
them off. So, if any man should come along the road, and, see- 
ing the traveler asleep, and the bundle lying by his side, should 
attempt to steal it, the dog would attack him and drive him away. 
He thinks he hears some one now. He is listening, and looking 
toward the road very intently. He is engaged in doing duty. 

A wolf, now, can not be taught to do duty in this way. He 
will not submit. You can not make him submit. If you show 
him kindness, he is not grateful ; if you punish him, it only puts 
him in a rage. The dog yields cheerful obedience to proper au- 
thority, and is true and faithful to all the obligations of duty that 
are imposed upon him. All men admire, therefore, and praise the 
nature of the dog. They think it is noble. On the other hand, 
they hate and condemn that of the wolf. They make the dog 
their companion and friend, while they hunt and destroy the wolf 
wherever they find him. 


68 


THE SPIRIT OF HEAVEN. 


Some boys seem to resemble the wolf in intractableness. Rossiter. 

Some boys seem to possess, in a certain degree, the nature of 
the wolf, in that it is very hard to induce them to submit to right- 
ful authority, and to make them willing to obey law, and yield 
themselves to the obligations of duty. If they are reasoned with, 
they pay no heed. If rewards and kindnesses are shown to them, 
they seem to be awakened to no gratitude ; and to punish them 
only makes them angry. Such boys have none of the spirit of 
heaven. A very essential element of the spirit of heaven is a 
spirit of cheerful and ready submission to authority and law. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

DORMANT WICKEDNESS. 

“God looketh on the heart.” 

A person may have a bad spirit in heart, while yet, in respect 
to his acts , he is doing nothing wrong. The temper and disposi- 
tion of his mind may be very wicked, while his outward conduct 
is right. In such a case, he is to be judged by what is in his heart. 

A bad and malicious boy, named Rossiter, who took pleasure in 
teasing and tormenting all other children that were smaller or 
weaker than himself, once took his stand near a corner where he 
expected some small boys to come by, and took up a stone, and 
made ready to throw it at them as soon as they should come in 
sight. His intention was, as soon as he should have thrown the 
stone, to run away himself around the corner, and hide in an alley 
there, where he thought he could hear and enjoy the cries and 
complaints which the small boys would make without any danger. 


DORMANT WICKEDNESS. 


69 


He forms a plan to throw stones at some small boys 

A good boy — that is, a boy with a right disposition and temper of 
mind, could not take any pleasure in hearing the cries and com- 
plaints of innocent sufferers. But Rossiter had such a heart that 
he could take pleasure in it. It was fun to him. 

It happened, however, that the small boys did not come. So, 
after waiting for some time, he threw down his stone and went 
his way. 

Thus he did not actually do any thing that was wrong. He did 
not throw his stone, and, consequently, did not hurt any’ body. 
Apart from the intention to throw a stone, and give persons pain 
by doing it, there seems to be no harm in taking one up. Thus 
Rossiter did not perform any outward act that was wrong ; but 
he was in a very sinful state of mind. Such a person could never 
be admitted into any happy community, either in this world or the 
other, without immediately marring the happiness of it. He would 
do mischief and make suffering just in proportion to the power he 
might possess. 

Thus a boy may be very bad in heart while yet he is not actu- 
ally doing any mischief. In fact, he may be very bad in heart 
while he is not doing any thing at all. A boy, named Ezra, was 
once shut up by his father in a chamber for punishment. While 
there, he went to the window, and looked out to see his brothers, 
who were in the yard below, flying their kite. He was very angry 
with his father for not letting him go out to play with his brothers, 
and he stood at the window hoping that the kite-string would get 
tangled in the trees. That was all. He did not do any thing 
whatever ; he merely wished. It is true that, if he had had power 
to put forth a long, invisible arm, and push the kite-string against 


70 


DORMANT WICKEDNESS. 


The serpent and the tiger, when in repose. 

the trees, he would have done it. But he had no such power, and 
so he did nothing. Still, his heart was full of wickedness. Thus 
we see that one’s heart may be wrong while his outward conduct 
is right, or when there is no outward conduct at all. 

Here is a picture of a tiger. He has devoured the animal that 
he killed last, and nothing is left of it but some bones. He is now 



THE TIGER IN REPOSE. 


looking out for more prey. He has very sharp claws to hold his 
prey with, and very powerful muscles, by which he can spring 


DORMANT WICKEDNESS. 


71 


They are savage and fierce in disposition, though now doing no harm. 

with prodigious force upon his victim. In addition to this, he has 
a very fierce and ferocious temper. He is lying quiet now, and is 
doing no harm. He is of very graceful form, and his fur is soft 
and beautifully spotted. If he had the temper and disposition of 
a dog, what a pretty pet and plaything he would be. 

Above the tiger, on a branch of the tree, in the picture, is a ser- 
pent. He is coiled around the branch. He is not hurting any 
body. There is nobody near him that he can hurt. His mouth 
is open, however, and the fangs are out, and the poison is all ready, 
at the root of the fangs, to be injected into the veins of any body 
who comes in his way. The poison is now T there, ready to act 
whenever there is an opportunity, though it is not now acting. It 
is latent venom, and latent venom in a serpent is. like dormant 
wickedness in a man.* We dislike and dread the poisonous ser- 
pent even when he is not biting any body. We are repelled from 
and shun the wicked man, even though for the time he is not do- 
ing any wickedness. The poison is in his heart, ready to act at 
any moment whenever opportunity offers. 

The dog is kind and gentle. He is grateful for favors, faithful 
in duty, and docile and submissive under authority. The tiger is 
fierce and ungovernable. Like the wolf, he can not be made to 
perform any useful work. He shows no gratitude for any kind- 
ness or favor that is bestowed upon him. He is governed at all 
times by a fierce and indomitable eagerness to spring upon every 
living thing that comes within his reach, in order that he may kill 
and devour it. He is lying quiet now, and is doing no mischief. 
But his spirit and temper are still the same. He is just as much 

* Latent means hidden ; dormant means sleeping. 


72 


DORMANT WICKEDNESS. 


The tiger on the watch. 


lie is ready to leap upon his prey. 


a tiger while lying thus quietly at rest as he is when he is spring- 
ing upon and devouring a lamb. 

The tiger is formed like the cat. Like the cat, he springs upon 
his prey. The cat catches mice by springing on them. She can 
spring six or eight times her own length. The tiger, being much 
larger than the cat, can spring much farther, but not so far rela- 
tively to his own length. If the cat can spring six or eight times 
her length, the tiger might perhaps clear five or six times his. He 
hides himself in the boughs of a tree, or in the shade of a thicket, 
or he crouches down upon the brink of a precipice, from which he 
can look over upon the green below ; and when a sheep, or a goat, 



THE TIGER ON THE WATCH. 


or any other animal which he desires for a prey passes along near 
to him, he springs upon them in a most unexpected manner, and 


FRANKLIN AND COLLINS. 


73 


The tigers in Bengal. 


Beginning of the story of Franklin and Collins. 


so kills and devours them. Travelers say that sometimes, in the 
East Indies, where tigers abound, a boat, in passing near the shore 
under an island, or along the bank of a river, if it goes too near 
the thickets on the bank, will be overwhelmed by a monstrous 
tiger, six or eight feet long, coming down with a tremendous leap 
into it from the jungle. The boat is in such cases broken to 
pieces, the men are thrown out into the water, and some of them, 
perhaps, are seized by the tiger and devoured. 

He is, however, no more fierce and furious when he is doing 
such things as these than he is at other times. He shows his dis- 
position and character by these deeds, but he possesses a dispo- 
sition and character just the same when he is lying quietly in his 
den. 


CHAPTER IX. 

FRANKLIN AND COLLINS. 

The nature of a bad turn of mind, and the way in which it in- 
terferes with the happiness of others, is shown in the story of 
Franklin and Collins. 

Franklin was a great statesman. In the latter part of his life, he 
was sent to England and to France by the government of Amer- 
ica to negotiate treaties, and to transact other public business of 
the highest importance. He was also a very distinguished phi- 
losopher. He it was who first surmised that the lightning of the 
clouds was produced by the same cause as that which gives shocks 
and sparks from an electric machine ; and he made a kite, with a 


74 


FRANKLIN AND COLLINS. 


Franklin and Collins go to Philadelphia. Collins’ character. The Delaware. 

very slender wire in the string, and raised this kite in a thunder- 
shower, in order to bring down the electricity. This experiment 
succeeded perfectly well. The electricity came down the wire, 
and charged an electrical jar which he had on a table, and he gave 
a shock with it.* 

When Benjamin Franklin was a boy about sixteen or seventeen 
years of age, he went from Boston to Philadelphia with another 
boy, named Collins, to seek his fortune. He was himself very in- 
dustrious and frugal, and was generally very just and kind to all 
with whom he had any dealings. Collins had a similar character 
at first ; but he fell into idle, intemperate habits afterward, and 
became a very dissipated and wicked boy. Franklin, however, 
would not abandon his friend at once, but did all he could to re- 
form and save him. He used to lend him money to pay his debts, 
and try to get good employment for him, and reason with him to 
persuade him to abandon his idle and vicious habits, and he en- 
deavored in every other way to seek his welfare. 

But all was in vain. The efforts that Franklin made seemed 
to do no good. 

One day, Franklin and Collins, together with some other young 
men, concluded to go out on the River Delaware in a boat for 
pleasure. The River Delaware is near Philadelphia. They got 
the boat at one of the wharves. There were four boys in the boat, 
Franklin, Collins, and two others. They agreed to take turns in 
rowing, two at a time. They did so in going up the river ; but 

* He covered his kite with silk instead of paper, in order that it might not be 
spoiled by the rain. There will be a full account of this experiment, and of many 
others which Franklin performed, in a future story-book of this series. 


FRANKLIN AND. COLLINS. 


75 


Collins refuses to row. His unreasonableness and obstinacy. The thwarts. 

when they were coming down, on their return home, Collins re- 
fused to row any more in his turn. 

“ You must row the rest of the way,” said he to the other boys ; 
“ I’m tired of it” 

“ No,” said Franklin, “ we are tired as well as you. You must 
do your share of the work. We are not to do it all.” 

“Very well,” replied Collins; “if you don’t row home, you’ll 
have to stay all night upon the water.” 

So saying, he folded his arms, and looked as if he were fully de- 
termined not to touch an oar again. 

After some delay, the other boys were disposed to give up to 
Collins, unreasonable as he was. They thought, as good-natured 
and sensible boys always do on such occasions, that it was better 
to give up, and suffer a little wrong, than to have a quarrel. But 
Franklin was pretty well out of patience with Collins’ unreason- 
ableness and ingratitude, and he was unwilling to yield to him any 
more ; so he insisted that Collins should row in his turn. Collins 
refused to do so ; and, beginning to grow angry himself, ordered 
Franklin to take an oar immediately and begin to row. 

“ I will not,” said Franklin. 

“ Then I’ll make you,” said Collins. 

Collins was in the stern of the boat at the time, and Franklin 
was on one of the middle thwarts.* Collins went toward him, 
brandishing his fist as if to strike him. But Franklin, who was 
very temperate in his habits, and so was very healthy and strong, 

* Seats of the boat which pass across from side to side are called thwarts. 
They derive their name from the fact that they pass athwart, that is, across the 
boat. 


76 


FRANKLIN AND COLLINS. 


Picture of Collins overboard. Conversation. The gunwale. 

was not at all afraid of him. Just at the instant that Collins was 
ready to deal the blow, Franklin sprang forward, with his head 
down, thrust his head between Collins’ legs, and then, rising up 
suddenly, he threw him over the gunwale* into the water. 

Collins must have been greatly astonished at finding himself 

thus suddenly and unceremoni- 
ously thrown overboard into the 
stream. As soon as he rose to 
the surface, after his first plunge, 
he began to swim toward the 
boat, uttering threats and im- 
precations, and demanding that 
they should stop and let him get 
on board again. Franklin stood 
all the time in the stem of the 
boat, looking calmly and quiet- 
ly at him. 

“ Take me on board !” said Collins. 

“ If you’ll promise good behavior,” said Franklin. 

“ Let me come on board !” repeated Collins. 

“Will you promise to row ?” asked Franklin. 

“ No,” said Collins. 

“ Then give way, boys !” said Franklin. 

He addressed these words to the two other boys, who were all 
this time seated on the thwarts, in the forward part of the boat, 
with oars in their hands. The boys accordingly pulled a few 

* The gunwale is the edge of the boat. Sailors commonly pronounce the word 
as if it were spelled guril. 



COLLINS IN THE WATER. 


FRANKLIN AND COLLINS. 


77 


Collins conquers by his obstinacy. 


The boys take him into the boat. 


strokes with their oars. This drew the boat a little ahead, so as 
to keep it out of Collins’ way as he swam toward it from behind. 
After the boat had been thus shot ahead to a safe distance, the 
boys rested upon their oars, and Franklin and Collins came to an- 
other parley. 

“ Stop the boat, and let me come on board !” said Collins. 

“Will you promise to row ?” said Franklin. 

“ No,” said Collins. 

“ Then give way, boys !” said Franklin. 

This process was repeated several times, until the boys saw that 
Collins was becoming really exhausted, and that there was danger 
that he would sink and be drowned before he would give up. Per- 
sons who are in the wrong in a contest are almost always very ob- 
stinate, and unwilling to give up, while those that are in the right 
are generally yielding, and ready to concede to others. Thus, in 
this contest, the boys in the boat, who were in the right, finally 
gave up to Collins, who was in the wrong. They stopped the 
boat, and drew Collins, all dripping with water, on board. 

Franklin and Collins were never really good friends again after 
this transaction. It is very plain that a boy possessed of so self- 
ish and overbearing a temper could never be a safe or agreeable 
companion. It is true, he might be good-natured and pleasant 
enough while allowed to have his own way, but whenever it should 
come his turn to encounter any hardship or fatigue, no reliance 
could be placed upon him. There seemed to be no element of 
generosity, or even of justice, in his character. 

There are a great many people in this w r orld who act, in all their 


78 


TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 


Remarks on the case. 


Sins that come by surprise. 


intercourse with other men, just as Collins did on this excursion. 
They are selfish, arrogant, and unjust, and they go through life 
crowding and elbowing all who come in their way . Their inquiry 
always is, in their dealings with their fellows, not how much are 
they entitled to, but how much can they get ; and they seem to 
care for nobody’s happiness but their own. There are some such 
characters almost always among the boys of every village, and 
among the men in every town. Even ladies, and young and gen- 
tle girls — or girls who look as if they might be amiable and gen- 
tle — often are seen to manifest the same spirit. Such a spirit al- 
ways mars the happiness of every circle where it gets in. But it 
will never mar the happiness of heaven, for nobody that possesses 
such a spirit will ever gain admission there. 


CHAPTER X. 

TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 

A boy who is usually governed by the right spirit, and who de- 
sires to do his duty, is sometimes unexpectedly betrayed into a 
fault by sudden temptation. He is, as it were, taken by surprise. 

Peter’s sin in denying his Eord was a case of this kind. The 
circumstances of the case were as follows : 

On the night when Jesus Christ was taken prisoner, just before 
his crucifixion, the weather was cold, and after he was taken, the 
soldiers who had been employed for the purpose of apprehending 
him were warming themselves by the fire in the outer hall of the 
high-priest’s palace, while Jesus himself was taken into the inner 


TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 


79 


Account of Peter’s denying his master. Circumstances that led him to do so. 

hall to be questioned there by the high-priest. A few soldiers 
went in with him to the inner hall, but the rest remained in the 
outer hall, and while they waited they warmed themselves by the 
fire. Some other persons came in there besides the soldiers. 
Among them was Peter, one of the disciples. When Jesus had 
been taken prisoner, the other disciples had fled in terror. They 
supposed that Jesus would be killed,, and that, if they did not make 
their escape, they should be killed too. So they forsook their mas- 
ter, and fled. 

But Peter would not fly. He was more bold than the rest. 
He seized a sword, and began to defend himself against the men 
who had come to seize his master. He struck a blow at one of 
them with his sword. He struck with so much force, that, if the 
blow had taken effect as it was aimed, it would probably have 
cleft the man’s skull. The man, however, as it would seem, 
moved his head, at the instant, a little to one side, so that the 
sword just grazed his temple and cut off his right ear. 

Jesus then forbade Peter to fight any more, and directed him to 
put aside his sword. He also gave himself up to his enemies, and 
they took him away. Peter followed them. He kept at some 
distance from the soldiers for some time, for fear that they should 
seize him too. Finding that he was not molested, he drew up 
cautiously to the palace gates, and when they went in, he follow- 
ed them. He supposed that the people in the palace would not 
know him, for it ‘was in the night that Jesus had been taken, 
though now it was near morning. 

Thus it happened, that when the soldiers and the servants col- 
lected round the fire in the outer hall, Peter was there too. 


80 


TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 


Judas acted very deliberately. Peter’s plans and intentions. 

Peter thought that they would not know him. They had nev- 
er seen him before. They did not even know Jesus ; and so, when 
they were going out, with lanterns, and torches, and weapons to 
take him prisoner, they had to make a bargain with some one to 
show them the person that they were to seize. They made this 
bargain with Judas. Judas knew Jesus very well, for he was 
one of the disciples ; and he agreed to signify to the officers which 
was Jesus, when they came, otherwise they would not have known 
which person of the company to seize. 

So Peter supposed that they would not know him , and, as he loved 
his master, and was very anxious to learn what was going to be- 
come of him, he ventured to go stealthily in with the soldiers and 
servants, and to stand with them before the fire in the hall, in or- 
der to listen and hear what they should say. 

“I will keep it secret,” thought he to himself, “who I am, so 
that they shall not seize me. Besides, if they do not know that 
I am one of Jesus’ friends, I shall hear what their plans are, and 
can perhaps do something to help him escape from them.” 

Peter was found out, however, very soon, and in a singular 
way. The disciples of Jesus came generally from Galilee, which 
was a province where the language of the people was a little dif- 
ferent from the language at Jerusalem ; or, rather, though the 
language was substantially the same, the pronunciation and into- 
nation of the people were different, so that a Galilean could gen- 
erally be recognized in Jerusalem by his speech. Now there was 
a servant-maid in the hall, among the ethers who were about the 
fire, and she, hearing Peter speak, observed that he spoke in the 
Galilean manner. 


TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 


81 


Peter was taken by surprise. Judas, on the other hand, sinned very deliberately. 

“Ah !” said she, at once, “this man must be one of his disci- 
ples.” 

“No,” said Peter, “I do not know the man at all.” 

Thus he was taken by surprise. The emergency was sudden 
and unexpected. He was greatly excited with anxiety and fear, 
and he did not think what he was doing. As soon as he had time 
to reflect upon it, he was very sorry for having committed such a sin. 

It is not surprising that Peter, though sincerely attached to his 
master, should have been thrown off his guard in the midst of 
such a scene of excitement and danger. 

As soon as he had uttered his denial, he heard the cock crow. 
It was beginning to be morning. 

On hearing the cock crow, Peter was overwhelmed with con- 
fusion. He w~as reminded of the words that Jesus had said to 
him — Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. He had 
twice before denied that he was one of the friends and followers 
of Jesus. In all these cases, he had bben called upon so suddenly, 
and in the midst of such scenes of excitement and danger, that he 
may fairly be considered in them all as having been taken by sur- 
prise. 

It was very different with Judas. He made a deliberate bar- 
gain beforehand to betray Jesus into the hands of his enemies. 
The chief priests, and the officers whom the priests were going to 
send for Jesus, did not know him very well, and, as it was night 
when they were going to apprehend him, they thought they should 
need a guide — not only that they might be conducted to the place 
where he w T as, but that they might be sure, when there, of taking 
the right man. 

3 


F 


82 


TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 


How Judas came to engage to betray his lord. 

The reason why they determined to seize Jesus in the night, 
and not in the daytime, was, because he had so many friends in 
the city, and these friends were so devoted to him, that his ene- 
mies were afraid, if they attempted to seize him in the city, that 
a great crowd would be collected about him, and that there would 
be a riot. It was even possible that his friends might succeed in 
rescuing him out of their hands. So they said, 

“ It will be better to take him in the night, when he is alone, or 
almost alone.” 

But how were they to find him in the night ? and how were the- 
officers, whom they were to send after him, to be sure of the right 
man ? Unless they should have some one to tell them who Jesus 
was, they might, by mistake, as has been intimated before, get 
Peter, or John, or Matthew, or any other one of the disciples, 
who might chance, at that time, to be with Jesus. 

While they were hesitating about this, quite perplexed to know 
what to do, Judas went to them, and asked them what they would 
give him if he would go, some time, and show the men whom 
they should send for Jesus where they should find him, and who 
he was. 

The priests were very glad when they heard this proposal. 
They told Judas that they would give him thirty pieces of silver. 

Judas at once agreed to do it for that sum. He, however, 
thought that he should not like to go forward in an open manner, 
and point to Jesus, and say, “ That is he,” for Jesus had always 
been his friend, and he was ashamed to betray him openly. 

“But I will give you a sign,” said he. “When I come to 
where Jesus is, among his other disciples, I will say nothing to 


TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 


83 


The men make ready to go out. 


The lanterns and torches. 


the rest, but I will go up to him and salute him. The one, there- 
fore, that I go to and salute, you may know is the right man.” 

All this arrangement was made the day before. It was very 
deliberate. Judas had a long time to think of it, instead of hav- 
ing been taken, as Peter was, by surprise. 

At length, at midnight, the men said that the time had come to 
go out for Jesus, and they began to make their preparations. 
They lighted their lanterns and their torches, tmd got their swords 
and spears ready. 

Lanterns are lights that are protected by some transparent or 
semi-transparent covering, which keeps the wind out, but allows 
the light to shine through. If a light is small, the wind will blow 
it out if it is not thus protected. If the light is large, the wind 
will not blow it out. Such large lights, which will bear exposure 
to the wind, without any protection, are called torches. They 
are made in various ways. Sometimes there is a reservoir of oil, 
with a very large wick coming from it, on the end of a long han- 
dle. This, when lighted, makes a great, flaring, and smoking 
flame, that the wind can not easily put out. Torches are some- 
times made of cotton cloths dipped in melted rosin, or some other 
combustible substance, and wound round the end of a stick. This 
preparation, when lighted, makes a great flame, which the wind 
will not put out. 

A torch gives a much better light than a lantern, but it will not 
burn so long. It burns faster, and so it burns out quicker. 

The light of a lantern will burn longer than a torch, but it is 
not so bright. 

If you need a verv bright light, and for only a short time, a 


84 


TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 


• Difference between a torch and a lantern. 


The apprehension of Jesus. 


torch is best. If you need a light a long time, you take a. lantern. 
The lantern will endure, though it will not afford so good a light. 

The men who went to apprehend Jesus on the night before he 
was crucified, took lanterns and torches both. They wished for 
a bright light, and so they took torches. But they did not know 
how long they might be gone, so they took lanterns too, to serve 
them as a resort in case the torches should go out. 

They had authority, as public officers, to seize Jesus, and make 
him prisoner. As soon as they had seized him, their intention was 
to bind him, in order to guard against any danger there might be 
that he would make his escape, and then take him into the city, 
and keep him confined until the morning. They were then in- 
tending to bring him before the chief priest, and also before the 
Roman governor, that he might be tried on a false accusation 
which they were going to bring against him, and, if possible, have 
him condemned to death. 

This plan was subsequently carried fully into effect. 

When the men were all ready, they went forth together out of 
Jerusalem. Judas went with them to show them the way. Jesus 
was in a garden at a little distance from the city. He had spent 
the evening and the night there, with his disciples, walking about 
among the trees, in great distress and anguish of mind. He knew 
that his enemies were in pursuit of him, and that he was to be 
taken and crucified on the following day. Some of his disciples 
were with him. They were endeavoring to comfort him. Some- 
times Jesus would leave these friends, and go away by himself 
and pray to God. This gave him more comfort and peace than 
any thing else. Still his heart was full of anxiety and sorrow. 


TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 


85 


The band of men come into the garden. 


Jesus goes forth to meet them. 


Presently the band of armed men were seen coming into the gar- 
den. The light of the torches gleamed upon the trees and shone 
upon the glittering weapons. Jesus saw them coming. He did 



JESUS APPREHENDED. 


not attempt to fly. He went forward to meet them. His disci- 
ples went with him. Judas came up as he had agreed, and ad- 
vanced to Jesus. He said, “ Hail, Master !” and kissed him. This 
was the usual way of saluting friends in those days, and it was the 
signal that Judas had agreed upon. So the officers knew which 
was Jesus by the signal that Judas gave them. 

Judas, however, did no good even to the enemies of Jesus by 
his treachery, for Jesus himself was ready to tell them who he 


86 


TAKEN BY SURPRISE. 


Judas did neither good nor harm by his treason. 

was. He knew that he was about to die for them, as their Sav- 
ior and Redeemer, and he did not wish to escape. In fact, when 
they were coming to him, he asked them who it was that they had 
come after. They told him they had come for Jesus of Nazareth. 
Then he told them that he was the one they sought, and asked 
them to allow the others who were there to go away. 

Thus Judas did no good and no harm by the treachery. It is 
true that Jesus was crucified the next day, and died in dreadful 
agony, but he would have been crucified just as certainly if Judas 
had not betrayed him. Thus Judas’ wickedness did no harm. 

The wickedness was none the less great, however, on that ac- 
count. The wickedness of wicked deeds does not depend upon 
the harm that comes from them. A boy once got angry with his 
brother, and threw a stone at him. The stone did not hit him. 
The boy who threw it, however, was just as much to blame as he 
would have been if the stone had hit him on the head and killed 
him. The sin was in throwing the stone. The sin was all com- 
mitted when the stone left the boy’s hands. What became of the 
missile afterward was beyond his control, and could in no way 
really affect his guilt. 

Thus, though the sin which Judas committed did apparently 
no harm at all, and made no difference in respect to the sufferings 
and death of Jesus, it was still a very atrocious sin, for it was 
a predetermined and deliberate act of treachery paid for with 
money. 

Peter, on the contrary, in denying that he was one of Jesus’ 
friends, acted under the influence of sudden excitement. He was 
taken by surprise. 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


87 


Children often taken by surprise. Account of a school. Quarrels. 


Children are often thus taken by surprise in the wrong things 
that they do. The story of the Frosted Cake, which will be re- 
lated in the next chapter, gives an instance of this. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 

I. 

TRANSGRESSION. 

On the banks of the North River, not a great many miles from 
New York, there was formerly a small boarding-school for boys, 
situated in the environs of quite a large village. 

The boys of the village were rather rude and mischievous, and 
they used to come sometimes upon the grounds which belonged 
to the school, and commit various depredations there. They 
would steal the fruit, and break down the camps and wigwams 
that the school-boys used to make in their play, and upset the 
boat on the pond, and do all manner of mischief. Then the boys 
of the school were very prone to resent these injuries, and to as- 
sail the village boys with recriminations and reproaches when 
they met them in their neighborhood ; and thus continual quar- 
rels were occurring, and much ill-will was engendered. In a 
word, the teacher came to the conclusion, before long, that he 
must, in some way or other, find means to effect a complete sep- 
aration between his boys and these outsiders, or there would be 
no peace. 


88 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


The teacher builds a high wall. The Free List. Fishing excursions. 


So he built a high wall all around his grounds* 

“ That’s a good plan,” said the boys of the school to each other, 
when they saw the workmen beginning to build the wall ; “ now 
those ugly village boys will be kept out.” 

“ That’s a good plan,” said the village boys, at the same time ; 
u now those ugly school-boys will be kept in.” 

When the wall was finished, the boys of the school were all re- 
quired to remain within, on the grounds belonging to the school, 
except those belonging to the Free List. The Free List, so call- 
ed, was a list of those boys that had been proved worthy of full 
and implicit trust and confidence — boys that always obeyed or- 
ders — that never stopped to play by the way, when sent to the 
village — that were always civil and gentlemanly to the village 
boys, and never got into quarrels with them ; and who, when al- 
lowed to go out of bounds, as it was called, always returned at 
the appointed time. Those pupils who, after a sufficient trial, 
were found to have such a character as this, were put upon the 
Free List, and they were sometimes allowed to go into the village. 
The other boys never. 

If a boy on the Free List became a bad boy, his name was 
taken off. 

If a boy not on the Free List became a good boy, his name was 
put on. 

All the boys of the school wished very much to be on the Free 
List, for those who were so enjoyed much greater liberty and 
many more privileges than the rest. 

One Saturday afternoon, the teacher went off on a fishing ex- 
cursion with the boys, to a pond about a mile from the school. 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


89 


The boys go out on the pond in a boat. The pic-nic. 


A consultation. 


All the boys went on this excursion ; for, when it so happened that 
the teacher himself could go with them off the grounds, he was 
willing that they should all go, whether they were on the Free 
List or not. It was safe for them to go, in such a case as that, 
for the teacher was with them to take care of them. 

In the course of the afternoon they took a boat, and went out 
into the middle of the pond, and landed on an island. Here they 
sat down under the trees and had a pic-nic. The feast consisted 
of bread and butter, bread and cheese, sandwiches, and an orange 
apiece for each boy. There were just twelve of them. 

The boys had excellent appetites, and they liked the pic-nic 
very much. In the course of the conversation which they had 
with each other, as they sat under the trees, the teacher said that 
there was one thing which troubled him a little in the manage- 
ment of the school, and that he did not know exactly what to do 
about it. 

“What is it, sir ?” said the boys. 

“Why, when you come back to school after vacation, or when 
a new boy enters the school, you very often bring in your trunks 
a large and rich cake, which your mother has baked for you at 
home, and then you make yourself sick eating it.” 

The boys were silent. Their thoughts were busy in reverting 
to one and another w 7 ho had been guilty of this folly. One boy, 
in fact, counted up all the cases that he could remember. There 
were seven, including himself. He counted himself twice, for he 
had made himself sick on two occasions. 

“You must take the cakes away from us, sir,” said one of the 
boys, suggestingly. 


90 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


Various plans proposed. The teacher makes a new rule. The boys acquiesce. 

“ I might do that,” said the teacher, “ but that seems rather 
hard. Your mother takes pains to have a cake made, or bought 
for you, as a token of her affection, when you come away from 
home, and, as soon as you get into my power, I take it away !” 

The boys laughed. 

“You must make us divide our cakes equally among the other 
boys,” suggested another scholar. 

“ That is only another form of taking it away,” replied the 
teacher. 

After a short pause, another boy said, “ That he thought the 
teacher might take the cake away from the boy, and keep it for 
him, giving him a small piece of it every day, as long as it lasted, 
and that would not make him sick.” 

“ It would not make him so suddenly sick,” replied the teacher, 
“ but it would do him, perhaps, as much injury in the end, by tak- 
ing away his appetite for more wholesome food, and so making 
him grow pale, and delicate, and sickly. I wish to have all my 
boys become robust, and healthy, and strong. I wish to have 
them eat substantial food, with good hearty appetites, and not un- 
dermine their health and strength by surfeiting themselves with 
unwholesome luxuries. I am seriously thinking of making a rule 
that no cake must be brought into the school at all.” 

“Well,” said the boys, good-humoredly, “we don’t *care.” 

The fact was, that the boys at that school had such an abun- 
dance of excellent food, .and were, in other respects, so well pro- 
vided for, that they thought very little of extra supplies of cake. 
What they wanted most was plenty of time to play about on the 
grounds. They did not care so much about cakes and pies. 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


91 


Kilby resolves not to submit. He will smuggle in some cake, he says. 

After reflecting fully upon the subject, the teacher finally con- 
cluded to establish the rule prohibiting the boys from bringing any 
cake to the school at any time, and the boys generally acquiesced 
in it. 

They all acquiesced, in fact, except one. He declared to the 
other boys, as soon as he was alone with them, that he would have 
just as much cake as he wanted. 

“ How will you get it?” said the other boys. 

“ I’ll smuggle it in,” said Kilby. 

The boy’s name was Kilby. 

The rest of the boys thought the rule was a very good one, and 
they were willing to submit to it ; but Kilby was not willing. He 
was a boy that had been indulged a great deal by his parents, and 
allowed to have his own way. So he had become selfish, unrea- 
sonable, and unwilling to submit to necessary restraints. He had 
been in school only a few days at this time, and the teacher had 
not yet had opportunity to observe his true character. He was 
on probation. 

About this time the boys were very much interested in enlarg- 
ing a cage or pen, in which they kept some rabbits which they had, 
in a corner of the yard, near the wall which inclosed the school 
grounds. The boys ©f this school were very much interested in 
collecting animals of all sorts, and they had a great many different 
kinds of cages for them. Over the leaf is a picture of some of 
these animals, with the cages that they kept them in. Over the 
rabbit-pen is a revolving cage, with squirrels in it. To the left, 
above, fastened against the wall, is a square cage, which the boys 
made out of a box which they found in the barn. There is anoth- 


92 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE 



the rabbit-pen. 

er smaller box on the rabbit-pen, near the revolving- cage, with the 


Picture of the boys’ animals in the corner of the garden. 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


93 


The boys need an auger. 


Debate about the mode of sending for it. 


letters H. W. on the end of it. This box belonged to one of the 
boys. It was one in which he had once brought a cake with him 
to school. When the cake was eaten up, he gave the box to be 
used for a sort of granary, to keep the corn in that was required 
to feed the squirrels. The rabbits are in the foreground, eating 
cabbage-leaves, with their little rabbits near them. The nearest 
little one is listening. 

In the course of their operations for enlarging the rabbit-pen, 
the boys one day required an auger, and they wished to send one 
of their number to borrow one of a carpenter who lived in the vil- 
lage. A boy named Darboner offered to go. 

“No,” replied one of the others, “you are not on the Free List, 
and can’t go. Let Erskine go.” 

Erskine was a small boy ; but he was so conscientious and faith- 
ful in all his duties, and so true to all his engagements, that he was 
always on the Free List. He was of a very accommodating disposi- 
tion too, and was always willing to make himself useful in any way. 

“ I’ll go,” said he. 

“ Let me go !” said Kilby. 

“ But you are not on the Free List,” said the other boys. 

“ No,” said Kilby ; “ but that is only because I have not been 
here long enough. He will let me go, I know.” 

“ Very well,” said one of the boys, “ you and Erskine can go to- 
gether.” 

This plan was satisfactory to all concerned. So Erskine and 
Kilby went together to the teacher to ask permission to go into 
the village. They found the teacher in his study, writing letters. 
They went in and made known their wishes. 


94 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


Erskine and Kilby go into the village. The frosted cakes at the confectioner’s. 

“ You can go, Erskine, certainly,” said the teacher, “for you are 
on the Free List, and I can trust you ; but how is it with Kilby ?” 

“You have not decided about putting Kilby on the Free List 
yet,” said Erskine, “but we thought that perhaps you would let 
him go.” 

“ Very well,” said the teacher ; “ if you will be responsible for 
him, I will try him. I will let him go, and see how he conducts 
himself, and that will help me to form an opinion about putting 
him on the Free List.” 

So Erskine and Kilby went away together. 

In going along the street of the village toward the carpenter’s, 
the two boys passed a confectioner’s shop. Kilby proposed to go 
in. 

“ No,” said Erskine ; “ for we must not buy any cakes.” 

“ I am not going to buy any,” said Kilby ; “ I am only going to 
see what they have got.” 

“ No,” said Erskine, shaking his head, and hanging back. 

Kilby then left Erskine and went into the shop himself, while 
Erskine remained at the door. Kilby talked with the woman that 
stood behind the counter a few minutes about some large frosted 
cakes that were there in a glass case, and then he came back to 
the door. 

“ Erskine,” said he, “ do you see those frosted cakes in that 
case ?” 

“Yes,” said Erskine. 

“Well,” rejoined Kilby, “ I am going to have one in my room 
to-night.” 

“ How can you get it there ?” asked Erskine.. 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


95 


Kilby forms a conspiracy with Noll. Directions given to Noll. 

•“ I shall smuggle it in,” said Kilby. 

Erskine shook his head and began to walk away. He was sorry 
to hear that Kilby had formed such a design ; but he was himself 
so much smaller than Kilby, that he thought it was not proper for 
him to say any thing on the subject. 

After going on a few steps farther, Kilby stopped suddenly, and 
looking across the street he exclaimed, “What good luck ! there’s 
Noll !” Then, calling out aloud, he said, “ Noll ! come over here.” 

Noll was rather an ill-looking boy. He was barefooted, and 
ragged, and very rough in his appearance ; he had, moreover, a 
surly expression of countenance. His eye brightened up, how- 
ever, when Kilby spoke to him, and he ran over across the street 
to the side where Kilby and Erskine were walking. 

“ Noll,” said Kilby, “ I want you to do something for me.” 

“What is it ?” said Noll. 

“ And I’ll give you a shilling,” said Kilby. 

“Agreed,” said Noll. “What is it ? I’ll do it.” 

Kilby took some money out of his pocket, and gave Noll half a 
dollar. He explained to Noll what he was to do as follows : 

“ Take this half dollar as soon as it is dark, and go to the con- 
fectioner’s, and bring me one of the frosted cakes. They are half 
a dollar apiece. Tell the woman to put it in a paper, and tie it 
up with a strong string. Then bring it round to the north wall of 
our grounds, by the big oak. I will be inside there at the time 
with my fishing-pole. I will fasten a piece of white paper to the 
hook, and then throw the hook over the wall. You will see the 
paper in the air, even if it is a little dark. Then you must take 
off the paper, and hook the cake on by the string. You must not 


96 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


The whole plan arranged. How the cake was to be smuggled in. 

speak, for fear that somebody might hear. I shall know when you 
hook it on. The weight of it will make me feel the bite. Then 
I'will lift up by means of the pole, and so heave the cake in over 
the wall. Then I will wrap up a shilling in another piece of pa-, 
per, and hook the hook into it, and send it over to you in the same 
way.” 

“ Yes,” said Noll, “ I’ll do it. What time shall I come ?” 

“ At seven o’clock,” said Kilby, pointing up to the tower of the 
church, where there was a clock to tell the villagers the time. “ I’ll 
throw the hook over just after the clock strikes seven.” 

Erskine stood by, while the boys were concocting this plot, with 
an expression of great anxiety and concern in his countenance. 
He was very sorry that Kilby had formed such a scheme, but he 
did not know what he could do to prevent it. 

“ Now, Erskine,” said Kilby, after having thus arranged the af- 
fair with Noll, “ we will go along and get the auger. If you help 
us manage about the cake, I will give you some of it ; but if you 
tell of me, I’ll take one of your ears off, close to your head, just as 
sure as you are alive.” 

That evening, a little before seven, Kilby beckoned to Erskine, 
who was playing at that time with the other boys on the green 
near the house, saying, “ Come, Erskine, come with me.” 

“ No,” said Erskine, shaking his head. 

“Yes,” said Kilby, “come a minute. I want to speak to you. 
I’ve got something very particular to say.” 

So Erskine went with Kilby, who, putting his arm round his 
neck, in a very confidential manner, led him off through paths, and 
alleys, and winding ways, among masses of trees and shrubbery, 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


97 


Kilby sets Erskine to watch. 


Erskine’s distress and perplexity. 


toward that part of the grounds where the big oak stood by the 
wall, and when he had got pretty near the place, he said, 

“'All I want of you is that you should stand here and watch, 
for fear somebody might come.” 

“ No,” said Erskine, “ I would rather not do any thing about it.” 

“But I don’t wish you to do any thing,” said Kilby. “You 
have only to stay here five minutes. I’ll be back in that time.” 

So Kilby drew out his fishing-pole from under some currant- 
bushes where he had hid it, and went away, leaving Erskine 
greatly perplexed and in great trouble. The poor boy did not 
know what to do. 

He had been waiting but a few minutes before he saw the 
teacher coming along by the margin of the grove, quite near him. 
Erskine was now more anxious than ever. He was truly desirous 
to do his duty, but he was terrified at Kilby’s threat that he would 
cut one of his ears off if he told of him. This threat made Er- 
skine very much afraid. It is true, he did not believe that Kilby 
would really cut his ear off, but he thought he would do some- 
thing or other* very terrible, and he was very much afraid. 

By this time, the teacher came up near to the place where 
Erskine was standing. 

“Well, Erskine,” said he, “you don’t seem to have any thing 
to do ; are you waiting for any body here ?” 

“ No, sir,” said Erskine. 

The moment that these words had slipped from Erskine’s 
mouth, he felt a doubt whether what he said was true or false. 
But he had not time to think of this question, for immediately af- 
terward, the teacher, getting a glimpse of Kilby through the trees, 
3 G 


98 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


The result of the plot. Kilby secures his cake and carries it to his room. 

and of his fishing-pole projecting over the wall, asked again, in a 
low tone, pointing, at the same time, in that direction, 

“What is that boy doing out there ? Do you know ?” 

“No, sir,” said Erskine, greatly alarmed. 

The teacher immediately left Erskine and walked rapidly toward 
the oak. Kilby heard him coming just at the moment when he 
was bringing the cake safely over the wall. He instantly thrust 
the pole in under the grass at the foot of the wall, so as to conceal 
it from view, and began to walk off rapidly down a pathway that 
led into a little thicket, holding the cake, all the time, in such a 
manner as to interpose his body between it and the teacher. The 
teacher perceived at once that something wrong was on foot, so 
he followed on. Kilby, perceiving that he was pursued, put the 
cake very adroitly in a crevice in a rock, at a moment when he 
was concealed from the teacher’s view, in turning a sharp curve 
in the path. He then went on without it. He supposed that his 
movement* had escaped the teacher’s eye, but it had not. The 
teacher stopped, himself, for a moment as he passed the crevice, 
and put his hand in to feel of the parcel. He satisfied himself, by 
the feeling of it, that it was a cake. 

He did not pursue Kilby any farther, but soon turned off into 
another path, and went back to the house. 

That night, after the boys had all gone to bed, Kilby crept 
dowrn out of his window, went to the rock where he had secreted 
the cake, found it all safe there where he had deposited it, and 
carried it, with a feeling of guilty triumph, to his room. 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


99 


Some remarks on the comparative guilt of Erskine and Kilby. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 

II. 

PENITENCE. 

The account of Kilby’s smuggling in the frosted cake, as re- 
lated in the last chapter, was given to you to show the difference 
in criminality between wrong doings that are deliberately and pur- 
posely planned beforehand, and those unpremeditated offenses to 
which a person is betrayed by some sudden impulse, or under the 
excitement of some unexpected emergency of danger. Both Kil- 
by and Erskine acted wrong. Kilby violated a rule of the school ; 
Erskine told a falsehood. He said that he did not know what 
that boy was doing, when he did know. Looking at the subject 
theoretically, as the philosophers say, we should probably consider 
it a greater sin to tell a falsehood than to break a rule of a school. 
And yet, in this case, Kilby was doubtless far more guilty than 
Erskine. His sin was deliberate, premeditated ; he resolved upon 
it, and planned it beforehand, under the influence of a selfish and 
insubmissive spirit. He was not led away by any sudden tempt- 
ation. It is true that, when he passed by the confectioner’s shop, 
and saw the cakes there, the spectacle acted upon him as a tempt- 
ation ; but then he had determined coolly to smuggle some cake 
in, before he saw any at the confectioner’s. You recollect that he 
told the boys that he would have as much cake as he liked, not- 
withstanding the rule of the school, and that he would smuggle it 


100 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


Suggestion to parents. Faults committed by surprise. Peter. 

in. He- determined, thus, on committing the sin beforehand, in 
a very cool and deliberate manner, so Ihat the sight of the cake 
was not a fresh and sudden temptation ; it only furnished him 
with an occasion for carrying into effect a wicked intention that 
he had fully formed before. 

In a word, Erskine’s fault was a sudden yielding to the influence 
of excitement and fear, while that of Kilby was the acting out of 
a wicked spirit of mind. Erskine’s fault was like that of Peter ; 
Kilby’s was more like that of Judas. 

Children are very often surprised thus into sudden faults, and 
especially falsehood ; and I think that, in all such cases, they 
ought to be dealt with in a very gentle manner, and not with any 
harshness or severity. The parent or the teacher ought very care- 
fully to inquire into the circumstances of the case when faults are 
committed, and if it appears that the fault was the effect of some 
sudden surprise, it should be dealt with in a much more lenient 
manner than if it were the result of a deliberate and predeterm- 
ined plan. 

There is one striking difference usually to be observed between 
those who commit faults from sudden impulse or surprise, and those 
who sin deliberately and on purpose. The former are much more 
frequently sorry for what they have done, and are more ready to 
confess it. Peter was surprised into the commission of his sin. 
As soon as he had committed it, he was sorry for it ; and when he 
heard the cock crow, he went out and wept bitterly. He would 
have confessed 1 ; s fault, no doubt, and would have asked forgive- 
ness, if he had h fl any opportunity to speak to Jesus on the sub- 
ject ; Judas felt no penitence. He suffered, it is true, a horrible 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


101 


Feelings of children that fall into sin in consequence of some sudden temptation. 


remorse, which led him to go and hang himself. Remorse is some- 
thing very different from penitence. Penitence leads a sinner to 
weep for his sins, and ask forgiveness of God whom he has offend- 
ed. Remorse makes him wretched and afraid, and when it is ex- 
treme, it prompts him to kill himself. Thus penitence draws him 
toward God. Remorse drives him farther and farther away from 
him. 

So a child, if he has said or done any thing WTong, and is pen- 
itent for it, keeps near to his father or his mother, and is not happy 
until he has confessed his fault, and asked to be forgiven. If he 
is not penitent, and feels only remorse, he is afraid to see his fa- 
ther or his mother, and keeps as far away from them as possible. 

Most men in this world feel only remorse for their wrong do- 
ings ; and so, though they are dissatisfied with themselves and ill 
at ease, they never go to God with sorrow and confession, but keep 
as far away from Him as they can. 

On the following page is the picture of a man suffering remorse. 
He is sick. He thinks that he is soon to die. The clergyman 
has come to pray for him. His mother is endeavoring to comfort 
him. But all is in vain. He is not truly penitent, and he can not 
find it in his heart to cast himself on Gt)d, with true sorrow for his 
sins, and humble supplication for forgiveness. His heart is stub- 
born and rebellious against God still, though he is tormented with 
remorse and anguish for his guilt. So he is tossing restlessly on 
his bed, and is very wretched. 

The object in the foreground, on the right, is a cushion to kneel 
upon. The book on the table in the background, to the left, is a 
Bible. The clergyman has been reading from it. In former times, 


102 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE 


The dying man suffering from remorse. 


clergymen were accustomed to wear wigs, and to be dressed in 
other respects as is represented in the engraving. 



_ j: '/I'iiihh 


V y\ . 


' 






REMORSE 


Erskine, to return to our story, was very sorry for the falsehood 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


103 


Erskine desires to see the teacher and to confess his fault. 


which he had told, the moment he had told it ; and the sorrow 
which he felt was penitence, not mere remorse, and so it led him 
to seek the teacher, and not to shun him. He would have liked 
to have followed him and to have confessed his fault at once, but 
he was afraid that if he went forward to the oak while the teacher 
was there inquiring into Kilby’s proceedings, it might be an intru- 
sion. So he walked slowly toward the house, resolving to wait 
by a small gate which he knew the teacher would pass through, 
and speak to him there. 

He did so. When the teacher came to the gate, he found Er- 
skine there. He did not see him at first, it was so dark. Pres- 
ently, however, he observed him, and said, 

“ Why, Erskine, is this you ?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Erskine. 

Erskine answered in a very trembling voice, and the teacher 
perceived that he was in some trouble. 

The teacher put out his hand to take Erskine’s hand, saying, 
at the same time, 

“Come, walk along with me, and tell me what is the mat- 
ter.” 

Erskine took hold of the teacher’s hand, and they walked along 
together. 

“Well, Erskine,” said the teacher, “ something seems to trouble 
you — what is it ?” 

“ I told you I did not know what that boy was doing,” said Er- 
skine, timidly. 

“Well,” said the teacher. 

“ And it was not true,” said Erskine 


104 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


Conversation between Erskine and the teacher. 

“You did know, then,” said the teacher. 

“ Yes, sir,” said Erskine. 

“What was he doing?” asked the teacher. 

For a minute Erskine did not answer. He walked along in si- 
lence. Presently he said, in a very faint, uncertain tone, 

“I would rather not tell you, sir, if I could help it.” 

The teacher was silent now, in his turn, for a minute or two, 
and then said, 

“ Are you willing to tell me what boy it was ?” 

“Don’t you know who it was, gir ?” asked Erskine, looking up 
inquiringly. 

“No,” said the teacher; “I did not go near enough to see him. 
Would you rather not tell me ?” 

“Yes, sir, I would rather not,” said Erskine. 

There are two ways of saying I would rather not, which have 
very different meanings. There is a way of making the words 
convey the idea of an absolute refusal. In this case, you empha- 
size the not , and with a downward inflection, and speak in a deci- 
ded tone, as if what you said settled the question. 

I would rather not. 

On the other hand, by emphasizing the word rather , and speak- 
ing doubtfully, with a rising inflection at the end, you only express 
your wish to be excused, thus : 

I would rather not. 

Erskine pronounced the words in this last manner. 

“ Why not ?” asked the teacher. 

“ Because he won’t like it,” replied Erskine. 

Boys at school, and even older students in colleges, never like 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


105 


The teacher speaks kindly to Erskine. Good effects of kindness. An illustration. 

to be witnesses against their companions. I don’t blame them for 
this reluctance, though many persons do. 

The teacher hesitated a moment, and then said, 

“Well, Erskine, I am very sorry that you told a falsehood. 
But then the temptation came upon you very suddenly. You 
were surprised into it. I am sure that if you had had time to 
think, you would never say a word that was untrue.” 

Here little Erskine burst into tears. 

The truth is, that when any body has done wrong, if you sym- 
pathize with them in their trouble, and even take their part a little, 
and try not to make the case . any worse than it is, you are much 
more likely to soften them and make them penitent, than if you 
chide and reproach them in a stern and indignant manner. I 
knew a case of a drunken man that illustrates this very well. He 
was staggering along the street, trying to get home. He jostled 
against a gentleman as he passed, and the gentleman turned to 
him and said, 

“ Keep out of the way, you drunken wretch, and go off about 
your business.” 

The drunken man was terribly enraged at these words. He 
declared that he was no more drunk than the gentleman himself, 
and went away cursing dreadfully, and resolving in his own mind 
that he would drink just as much as he pleased every time he had 
a chance. 

He went on for one or two squares, until he had in some meas- 
ure forgotten this incident, passing, in the mean time, a great many 
men who took no notice of him, until at length he stopped to rest 
himself a moment, and stood clinging to the railings for support. 


106 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


The drunken man treated kindly by a boy. Return to Erskine. 

Here a kind-hearted boy, about fifteen years old, saw him as he 
passed. 

“My friend,” said the boy, “I wish I could help you. You 
have got a little excited, I see, and I am very sorry. Can you 
get home alone, do you think ?” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said the man. “Yes, sir, I have taken a lit- 
tle too much, I confess ; but I can go home very well. Thank 
you, sir. I am very much obliged to you, sir. I don’t do it very 
often — I truly don’t, sir, I assure you, sir.” 

“No,” said the boy, “I am sure you do not. You look like a 
respectable man. I am sure you don’t allow yourself to get over- 
come very often, and I hope you never will again. Good-by, sir.” 

So the boy went on, the man repeating, again and again, as he 
went away, “Thank you, sir. I’m very much obliged to you, 
sir,” and resolving in his mind that if he could once reach home, 
and get over this trouble, he would never drink any thing more 
as long as he lived. 

That’s the right way to treat people who have involved them- 
selves in difficulty by doing wrong. 

But we are forgetting all a\>out Erskine. The teacher walked 
along toward the house with him, talking to him all the time in a 
very gentle and soothing manner, until just before they reached 
the piazza, when some one came out and told the teacher that 
there was a boy at the front gate who wished to speak to him. 

“Do you know who it is ?” asked the teacher. 

“No, sir,” said the messenger. “ He is a pretty rough-looking 
boy. I never saw him before.” 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


107 


Noll knocks at the teacher’s door. Why he did so. His fears. 

Who does the reader imagine that this boy might be ? 

It was Noll. 

The way it happened that he came to the door, and asked to see 
the teacher, was this. When he had hooked the cake upon the 
fish-hook, and had seen it go up safely over the wall, he confi- 
dently expected that, after a very short interval, he should see the 
line coming back again, with a paper at the end of it containing 
the shilling that Kilby had promised him. Instead of this, how- 
ever, he almost immediately heard the footsteps of Kilby as he 
ran away from the place. Now Noll, who, being on the outside 
of the wall, could not see what was taking place in the yard, and 
could only judge from the sounds that he heard, did not know 
that Kilby was running to escape from the teacher, but supposed 
that he had gone away to avoid paying the shilling. 

“ He’s gone off, I verily believe,” said he. 

Noll stood, as he said this, with his ear turned toward the wall, 
and listened, with a look of the most earnest expectation. 

“ He’s gone off,” said he, “ really and truly. He means to cheat 
me out of my shilling. I’ll fix him.” 

So saying, he turned away from the wall and went out toward 
the road, intending to go at once and inform the teacher of the 
school of the misdemeanor which Kilby had been guilty of. He 
thought that there was some danger in doing this, as he feared that, 
unless he took good care, the teacher might seize and punish him 
—that is, Noll — as an accomplice. He felt, however, so strong a 
feeling of resentment against Kilby that he resolved to take the risk. 

So he went to the gate and knocked, and a messenger went to 
call the teacher. 


108 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


He tells his story and immediately runs away. The two rooms. 

The teacher, when he came to the door, looked a moment at 
Noll, who kept all the time outside the gate. 

“Well, my boy,” said the teacher, “did you wish to speak to 
me ?” 

“ Yes,” said Noll. “ Your boy Kilby has been a smuggling in 
a big cake, with a fishing-pole, over the wall.” 

Noll was getting all ready for a start while he was speaking, 
and the moment that the words were out of his mouth, he set off 
and ran down the road at the top of his speed, looking back now 
and then over his shoulder, with a frightened air, to see if the 
teacher was following him. 

The teacher smiled, and, turning round, went into the house. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE, 

III. 

REMORSE, 

The rooms which Erskine and Kilby occupied at the school 
were near together. There was only a partition between them. 
At half past nine o’clock that evening, these two apartments pre- 
sented quite a strong contrast, however, in respect to the state of 
mind of the two occupants, and the kind of happiness which they 
were respectively enjoying. 

Erskine kneeled down upon a little green cushion which his 
mother had made him for the purpose, and prayed to God to for- 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


109 


Erskine goes to bed comforted and happy. 


Kilby gets his cake. 


give him all his sins, and to watch over him while he slept during 
the night. He prayed especially to be forgiven for the sin which 
he had committed that day, and asked this forgiveness particular- 
ly for the sake of Jesus Christ, who had died on the cross on pur- 
pose to redeem his soul from just such sins. When his prayer 
was ended, he rose from his knees full of -comfort and happi- 
ness. 

He got into bed, covered himself up with the clothes, found a 
nice soft place for his head in the middle of the pillow, and then, 
gazing upward, he amused himself for a time in fancying and mak- 
ing out the shapes of giants and dwarfs, and of castles and towers, 
in the lines made by the seams of the ceiling. At length he went 
to sleep. 

Kilby, on the other hand, in his room, was untying and opening 
his cake. He was in an ecstasy of exultation and triumph. “ I 
told them I would have just as much cake as I liked,” said he to 
himself, as the white top of the cake came in view, “ and now 
they’ll know I will. I’ve a great mind to go and call some of the 
boys up to come and eat it with me.” 

On more mature reflection, however, he concluded not to do 
this, so he began to eat the cake alone. His feeling of exultation 
soon began to be mingled with one of guilt and shame, for some- 
thing whispered to him that it was ungrateful and dishonorable 
thus to betray the confidence reposed in him by the teacher in al- 
lowing him to go to the village before he had got upon the Free List, 
and also that, in thus attempting to evade regulations made only for 
the purpose of making him grow strong and healthy, and hasten- 
ing the time when he should be a man, he was guilty of childish 


no 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


Kilby attempts to eat his cake. The guilty feeling. Effect of darkness Upon it. 

and ridiculous folly. These whisp erings, however, Kilby tried not 
to listen to, and went on eating hi 3 cake as fast as possible. 

Whenever he heard any slight 1 oise about the house, he was al- 
ways greatly alarmed, and he hu ried his cake, on such occasions, 
out of sight as quickly as possible. He feared that the teacher, 
or some of the family, might by some chance come into his room. 
At length, after he had. eaten about half the cake, he heard steps 
coming up stairs. This frightened him exceedingly. He wrapped 
up the remainder of the cake in the paper, crammed it suddenly 
up into the throat of the chimney, as the readiest and safest place 
that, he could think of to hide it in, and then began undressing him- 
self as fast as he could. He blew out his light, also, fearing that 
the people might see it through the key-hole or the crack of the 
door. 

As soon as he found himself in the dark, he was more afraid 
than ever. He wished that he had not extinguished the light. 
It would have been better, he thought, to have taken the risk of 
its shining through the key-hole. 

It is a very curious circumstance that the guilty feeling, one 
of the most painful and distressing feelings which a man can have, 
is always greatly increased in power, and made much more dis- 
tressing and painful, by darkness, and also by danger. Hence 
children who have done any thing wrong through the day are par- 
ticularly afraid to be left alone in the dark at night. 

It was a long time before Kilby went to sleep. 

The first thing that he was conscious of when he woke in the 
morning was a gloomy feeling of guilt and remorse, that rolled in 
over his soul like a dark cloud that is drifted by the wind into a 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


Ill 


Kilby’s feelings in the morning. In the afternoon he is missing. 

glen among the mountains. It seems, in fact, almost a§ if Re- 
morse always stands by its victims, and watches them while they 
are sleeping, ready to seize their souls the instant they awake, so 
sudden and overwhelming is the sense of guilt, and the sinking 
of the soul, in such cases, when consciousness first returns in the 
morning. Kilby felt very badly indeed. 

He rose and dressed himself, but was afraid to go down stairs. 
The teacher might possibly have found him out. At last, how- 
ever, he went down. The teacher accosted him just as usual, in 
a kind and friendly manner. So Kilby thought that all was safe. 

Things went on much as usual during the day, but in the after- 
noon Kilby did not come to the school-room. After a time, the 
teacher sent one of the boys to find him. 

The boy came back in about a quarter of an hour, and said 
“ that he had looked every where, and could not find him.” 

“ Have you been up into his room?” asked the teacher. 

“ No, sir,” said the boy. 

“Well, go there, please,” said the teacher. “ It is possible that 
he may be there.” 

The boy came back in a few minutes, and said “ that Kilby 
ivas in his room, and that he was sick.” 

“ Poor boy !” said the teacher. “ I am very sorry for him. I’ll 
go and see him.” 

So the teacher went up into the chamber. He found Kilby 
lying on the bed, his face flushed, and his head aching. 

The teacher came to the bed where Kilby was lying, and took 
hold of his wrist to feel for his pulse, saying, at the same time, 

“ I am sorry that you are sick.” 


112 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


Kilby is sick. He pretends to be surprised. Over-acting. 

Then, after counting the pulse a few seconds, he said, 

“Your pulse is pretty quick. Let me see your tongue.” 

So Kilby put out his tongue. 

“Yes,” said the teacher, “ it is considerably furred. Your head 
aches, I suppose.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Kilby. 

“ I am very sorry,” said the teacher. “ I will go down and see 
if I can get something for you to take. I suppose it is the cake 
that you ate.” 

“What cake !” exclaimed Kilby, starting up, and feigning to 
look very much surprised. In fact, he over-acted the part. He 
looked too much surprised. 

“ Lie down,” said the teacher, speaking, however, in a gentle 
tone of voice ; “ lie down, and keep quiet. I know all’ about the 
cake. I shall have something to say about it when you get well, 
but now you must lie still and keep quiet.” 

So Kilby sank back again upon his pillow, shut his eyes, and 
turned very pale. 

“I donk know what you mean,” said Kilby, faintly. 

“ I don’t like to talk with you about' it now,” said the teacher, 
“ for fear that you might be tempted to say something which is 
not true, and then afterward you would be very sorry. Say noth- 
ing now, but shut your eyes, and try to go to sleep.” 

The teacher and his wife took excellent care of Kilby during 
the day, and they found that in the evening he was a grea{ deal 
better — that is, he was better in health, but he grew more and 
more uneasy in mind. The next morning, when the other boys 
assembled at breakfast, he did not come. 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


113 


Kilby disappears entirely. The inscription on the floor. Hobart. 

“ Boys,” said the teacher, “ do any of you know how Kilby is 
this morning ?” 

“ No, sir,” said the boys. 

“ George, go up into his room, please,” added the teacher, “ and 
see how he is.” 

George went up to the chamber, but he almost immediately re- 
turned, and said, looking at the teacher with eyes very large and 
round, 

“ Please, sir, Kilby’s run off!” 

“ Run off!” said the teacher. 

“ Yes, sir,” said George, “ I suppose he has. He is not there.” 

“And what makes you think that he has run off?” said the 
teacher. 

“ Because it’s chalked on the floor,” replied George. 

' “ What’s chalked on the floor ?” asked the teacher. 

“ Why, sir, he has written on the floor that he has gone home.” 

“ Let us go and see !” said the teacher. 

So saying, the teacher, followed by all the boys, went up into 
Kilby’s room. They found every thing as usual there, except that 
the words “Tve gone home ” were written rudely with chalk on the 
floor. The floor being painted blue, chalk marks upon it were 
very visible. 

“ Yes,” said the teacher, “ I suppose he has gone home.” 

“ How far is it ?” asked one of the boys. 

“ About ten or fifteen miles,” said the teacher. 

Then, after a moment’s pause, the teacher said, 

“ Which of the boys is Kilby’s greatest friend ?” 

“ Hobart is,” answered several of the boys. 

3 H 


114 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE 


Two boys sent in pursuit of Kilby. 

“ Hobart !” said the teacher, turning to Hobart, who was stand- 
ing at this time behind the other boys, near the door. Hobart 
kept in the background, because he knew all about Kilby’s going 
away, and he was afraid that he might be questioned about it. 

“ Should you be willing,” asked the teacher, “ to take the horse 
and wagon, and go down the road, and see if you can overtake 
Kilby ?” 

“ Why, I don’t know, sir,” said Hobart, doubtfully. 

He was thinking whether, in case he should overtake Kilby, the 
teacher meant that he should bring him back. 

“ And if you find him,” continued the teacher, “ you can carry 
him the rest of the way home in the wagon.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Hobart, eagerly, “I should like to go very 
much.” 

“ Are you on the Free List ?” asked the teacher. 

“ No, sir,” said Hobart, hanging his head. 

“ That’s a difficulty,” rejoined the teacher, pausing to reflect. 
“ And yet I would rather that you would go than any other boy, 
because, if he sees you coming, he will know that you are his 
friend, and so will not be afraid. If he were to see me coming in 
the wagon, I suppose he would go and hide in the bushes. I am 
just as much his friend, in fact, as you are, but he does not know 
that.” 

“ I’ll tell you what we will do,” continued the teacher ; “ you 
may choose some Free List boy to go with you ; in that way I will 
let you go.” 

So Hobart chose a Free List boy, and they two, immediately 
after breakfast, harnessed the wagon, and drove up to the door to 


STORY OP THE FROSTED CAKE. 


115 


Their parting instructions. The boys find Kilby on the road. 

receive their parting instructions. After giving them all neces- 
sary directions, the teacher let them go. 

“ And say to Kilby,” he added, just as the wagon was leaving 
the door, “ that Erskine did not tell me any thing about his smug- 
gling in the cake. It was Noll that told me. I asked Erskine 
about it, and when I found that he was very unwblling to give me 
any information, I excused him. Be sure and not forget to tell 
Kilby this.” 

“ No, sir,” said Hobart, “ we will remember.” 

So the boys set off on their journey in pursuit of the fugitive. 

They overtook Kilby about five miles from the school. He was 
sitting on a stone by the side of the road, very tired. He was ex- 
tremely glad to see the boys in the wagon, and when they told 
him that they had been sent by the teacher to carry him the rest 
of the way home, he was very much astonished, though exceeding- 
ly pleased. 

“ I should have thought,” said Kilby, “ that he would have sent 
you to bring me back.” 

“No,” said Hobart, “he does not wish that you should come 
back. There is another boy going to take your place. His fa- 
ther applied a week ago, but there was no vacancy, and the teach- 
er is writing to him to-day that he may come.” 

“Well,” replied Kilby, “ I don’t care. I am going to make my 
mother let me go to a school where they are not so strict. I hate 
schools where they are strict.” 

Kilby’s mother, after he got home, made inquiry for such a 
school as would suit her son’s ideas. It was long before she found 
one. In the mean time, the unfortunate boy spent his time in 


116 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE 


Kilby reduced to great straits for amusement. 


idling about the streets, discontented and unhappy. In this en- 
graving we see him leaning against a tree, in the middle of the 



KILBY. 



117 


STORY OF THE FROSTED CAKE. 


What became of the cake that was hidden in the chimney. Two questions to consider. 


forenoon, endeavoring to devise some amusement to while away 
the tedious hours, in seeing a painter paint a fence. What finally 
became of him I never knew. 

All that is necessary now, to finish this story, is to say, that in 
the course of the summer and fall, the mice and the chimney- 
swallows 'ate the whole of the great piece of cake which Kilby 
had stuffed into the chimney. The paper, of course, as it could 
be of no use to them, they left there. This paper remained thus 
undisturbed till the middle of the winter, when the boy who occu- 
pied that room being confined there by a sprain which he got in 
falling from a shed, where he had been climbing up contrary to 
rule, they made a fire for him in the fire-place, and the paper 
took fire in the throat of the chimney. It burned up without do- 
ing any harm, though for a few minutes it made a very frightful 
roaring. 

And now there are two questions to be considered : 

1. Would it be safe and pleasant for the rest who might be 
there to have such a boy as Kilby in heaven ? 

2. Would it be safe and pleasant for the rest who might be 
there to have such a boy as Erskine in heaven ? 


118 


SMUGGLERS. 


Smugglers. 


Their huts. 


Artifices for concealing them. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

SMUGGLERS. 

Kilby very properly designated his mode of getting his cake in 
secretly over the wall, in a manner contrary to law, as smuggling. 
It was a kind of smuggling. 

Smugglers, in the ordinary meaning of the term, are men who 
attempt to make money dishonestly by avoiding the payment of 
what are called duties. A duty, in this sense, is a kind of,tax. 



huts are built in such a manner as to appear as much as possible 
like the rocks around them. There is scarcely any thing but the 
smoke coming from the chimneys to denote that they are human 
habitations at all. The smugglers never allow the smoke to issue 


SMUGGLING. 


119 


Nature of the kind of tax called duties. 

from their chimneys during the day time, lest it should betray 
them. It is now night, however — a winter night. There is snow 
upon the ground, and the moon is shining from behind the clouds, 
over the distant sea. That sea is the English Channel, lying be- 
tween England and France-. It is quite wide — so wide that, in most 
parts of it, we can not see the land from one side to the other. 

It may seem strange that there should be any way by which 
men can escape the payment of any sort of tax by living in such 
huts as these, in the dead of winter. This, however, will be easi- 
ly understood, after a little explanation in respect to the nature of 
the kind of taxes called duties. There are a great many different 
ways which governments have of collecting taxes. Among other 
ways, one is this. They make laws that merchandise, especially 
certain kinds of merchandise, when it is brought into the country, 
shall be examined, and a tax shall be paid upon it by the mer- 
chant who imports it. He does not himself finally lose the money 
which he pays in this way, for he adds this tax to the price of the 
merchandise when he sells it to his customers. For instance, if 
he imports a hundred yards of cloth, and the tax or duty upon it 
is ten dollars, he pays the ten dollars, and then apportions the 
amount, and adds it to the price of the cloth. It makes ten cents 
a yard ; and so he sells the cloth at ten cents a yard higher than 
he would have sold it had it not been for the duty. 

Thus his customers, when they pay for the cloth, pay their sev- 
eral portions of the tax at the same time. They pay the tax with- 
out knowing it. And, as almost every body buys imported mer- 
chandise of one kind or another, the tax comes to be very generally 
distributed throughout the communitv. 


120 


SMUGGLERS. 


Arrangements made by government for collecting the tax. 


It is right that governments should collect taxes, for there are a 
great many things to be done by them for the benefit of the pub- 
lic which cost money, and the money must be raised from the 
people in some way or other. And whatever the way may be 
that is decided upon by the law of the land, as the way of raising 
this money, every good citizen ought to submit to it, so long as it 
stands as the law, and pay his portion of it readily. 

The way that the government collects the duties on merchandise 
is this. They specify all the ports and harbors where ships may 
come in with merchandise, and at each of these ports they have a 
large building called the custom-house. Whenever a ship comes 
into port, the captain must send to the custom-house a written, ac- 
count of all the merchandise in his ship. This acount is called a 
manifest. It is so called because it makes manifest or plain what 
there is on board the ship. At the custom-house there are a great 
many men called custom-house officers, with desks, and cases for 
papers, and all the necessary conveniences for transacting bus- 
iness. Some of these officers receive the manifest from the cap- 
tain. Others make copies of it in great record-books kept for the 
purpose. Others calculate what the duties amount to, according 
to the law, on the various kinds of merchandise which are speci- 
fied on the manifest. Others make out bills of the duties in the 
names of the various merchants who own the goods ; and, finally, 
others receive the money which the merchants pay when they come 
to settle their accounts. As fast as the merchants pay the duties 
of their own particular parcels of goods, they receive permits , as 
they are called. These permits are certificates, giving them leave 
to land the goods. They are printed forms, with blanks left to be 


SMUGGLERS. 


121 


Custom-house officers. 


Revenue cutters. 


Firing. 


filled up with writing ; and without one of them no goods can be 
taken out of the ship. 

There are custom-house officers, who go on board the ships as 
soon as they come in, in order to see that nothing is landed with- 
out a permit. 

In fact, there are custom-house officers who go out in small ves- 
sels, about the mouths of the ports and harbors, and along the 
coasts of the country, to prevent any merchant vessels coming in, 
small or great, without their knowledge. These custom-house 
vessels, though small, are very beautifully built, and are made to 
sail very fast. They are called revenue cutters. They are armed 
with guns, so that they can fire at any vessel or boat which they 
suspect is coming in secretly with forbidden goods on board, or 
without intending to pay duty. They first make a signal for such 
vessels to stop, that they may come and examine them, and if 
they will not stop, they fire into them. In this case, the balls that 
they fire, which are generally about as large as an orange, go 
whistling along over the water, and through the rigging of the ves- 
sel which they wish to stop. The vessel then generally stops at 
once, as soon as one ball is fired, for the people on board think 
that, if they do not stop, the next ball will come tearing through 
the side of the vessel, and kill some of them. In fact, they almost 
always stop when they see the revenue cutter coming toward them 
and making signals. 

There are revenue cutters like these in all the coasts and 
harbors of England, and in all the harbors of the United States. 
People sailing in and out of Boston or New York harbor in 
steam-boats often point them out to each other. In fact, if they 


122 


SMUGGLERS. 


Honest merchants are willing to pay the duties. 


see a long, slender, and beautiful vessel, with port-holes for guns 
in her sides, sailing swiftly about the harbor, or lying gracefully 
at anchor, they say, “ That must be a revenue cutter.” 

Thus, by this system, the government makes careful provision 
for collecting the duties on all the merchandise that is brought 
into the country, if it is merchandise that is required to pay duty 
according to law. And every honest merchant, being willing to 
pay the duty, brings his merchandise into the regular ports, and 
allows it to be all properly entered on the manifest that goes to 
the custom-house. But there are men who are continually en- 
deavoring to bring in their goods without paying the duty, so as to 
defraud the government of what is due to them. This is what is 
called smuggling.* One way of doing this in England is by bring- 
ing the goods over from France in small vessels, and then running 
these vessels into little creeks and bays in wild and unfrequented 
places along the shore. 

In fact, the more wild, rocky, and dangerous the coast is, the 
more suitable it is for their purpose ; for such places are not so 
closely watched by the revenue cutters. The smugglers accord- 
ingly choose the most dangerous and inaccessible places along 
the coast that they can find, where lofty cliffs tower precipitously 
above the sea, while the breakers that roll in from the offing foam 
and roar against the rocks below, and where there is no living 

* From this the word has become extended in meaning, so as to denote the 
bringing in of articles of any kind to any place contrary to law. Thus, in the 
school described in the last three chapters, it was against the law for the scholars 
to bring cake within the walls, and so Kilby’s bringing it in in that stealthy man- 
ner was a species of smuggling. 


SMUGGLERS. 


123 



Picture of a wild and solitary shore. 


The surf. 


to watch their proceedings. The smugglers come in upon these 
dangerous coasts in the night, or in the midst of fogs and storms. 
They land their contraband cargoes on the rocks, and store the 


thing, except the sea-birds that are here and there seen standing 
perched upon the rocks, or sailing in vast flocks through the air, 


DANGEROUS COASTS. 


124 


SMUGGLERS. 


Description of the smugglers’ vessel leaving France. 

goods in dens and caves, or in huts which they build for the pur- 
pose, like those in the engraving at the beginning of this story ; 
and then, finally, they convey them stealthily into the interior of 
the country, from time to time, by means of a great variety of 
artifices. 

On the opposite page is a picture of one of the smugglers’ vessels 
at the time it is leaving the coast of France to cross the Channel. 
The vessel lies in a bay, where it has been anchored for several 
days to receive its cargo. The cargo is on board, the sail is 
hoisted, and all is ready for the voyage. The boat which has 
taken out the cargo to the vessel from the shore is just coming 
back, having put on board the last load. The smugglers are in 
the vessel, one of them being at the helm to steer. They take 
their departure openly and without fear from the coast of France, 
as there are no officers there to intercept them. 

The bay from which they are going to sail is almost surrounded 
with land. On the right hand side of it is a pier, built high. Large 
vessels can come to this pier when the tide is up, and load and 
unload directly upon it. On a corner of the pier is a pole, with a 
barrel fastened to the top of it. This is for a signal to vessels 
coming into the bay, when there is a fog or a haze over the sur- 
face of the water, so that they' can not see any thing that lies 
low. On the other side of the bay is a long point of low and level 
land, with several wind-mills upon it. Water-mills are better than 
wind-mills, for the water of running streams flows all the time, 
and always in the same direction ; but the wind is continually 
changing, and sometimes it ceases to blow altogether. Water- 


SMUGGLERS 


125 


Return of the vessel. The wind-mills. The pier. 

mills are therefore better than wind-mills ; but on low and level 
lands, especially along the shores of the sea, where there are no 
rapidly running streams, there can be no water-mills, and so the 
people make wind-mills instead. 



SETTING SAIL. 


The smugglers proceed more and more cautiously with their 
vessels the nearer they draw to the English coast. They keep a 
very careful look-out, and, if they see a sail near the shore, they 
examine it well with their spy-glasses, to ascertain whether it is 
a revenue cutter. If it is a revenue cutter, they sail away in 


126 


SMUGGLERS. 


The smugglers in their hut. Description of the room. 

some other direction,, or they furl their sails and lie at rest on the 
water, and pretend to be fishing. They sometimes plan their voy- 
age so as to reach the English shore in the night, or they come 
when the sea is enveloped in fogs or agitate’d by storms. The 
best time for them is a dark and stormy winter night, when the 
revenue cutters are all at anchor in sheltered places near the 
shore, and the officers suppose that no smugglers would dare to 
attempt a landing. 

If they succeed in getting their merchandise on shore, they hide 
it among the rocks, or. store it in their huts, until they can make 
arrangements for sending it away. Some of their huts are mere 
cellars for putting the goods in. Others serve for houses. Here 
is a picture of the interior of one, in which a smuggler’s family lives. 



THE INTERIOR. 


There is a fire in the fire-place, with a kettle hanging over it, in 
which the woman is cooking the supper. The smuggler is sitting 


SMUGGLERS. 


127 


The wretched life that the smuggler leads. Revenue officer coming. 

on a bench in the chimney corner. He has hurt his knee against 
the rocks in landing his cargo, and the woman is making a band- 
age to put around it. While she is doing this, he is telling her the 
story of the trip, and of the narrow escapes which he and his com- 
rades had in eluding the vigilance of the revenue officers. The 
girl who holds the child in her arms is listening eagerly to the 
story. 

The smuggler has taken off his boots, which were drenched with 
water, and has put them up before the fire to dry. The furniture 
of the hut is very plain and simple. There is but one chair. The 
woman sits upon a stool, and there is another stool, a three-legged 
one, standing against the wall. Over this stool a gridiron and a 
pair of bellows are hanging. By the side of them is a broom. The 
few dishes which they use are on a shelf above. A roller towel 
hangs upon the wall, on the left. 

The abode of the smugglers is comfortless and wretched, and 
their lives are spent in anxiety, fear, and suffering. They still per- 
sist, however, in their course ; for when a man has once entered 
upon a life of crime, it is very difficult for him to find any honest 
way of obtaining subsistence. 

Besides the exposure, discomfort, and suffering that the smug- 
glers endure, they live in constant danger and fear. The revenue 
officers are continually on the watch for them, both at sea and 
along the shore. There is one coming now on horseback in the 
engraving at the commencement of this chapter. He will proba- 
bly see the smoke, and discover the caves, and he will soon re- 
turn with a large force, and perhaps take all the smugglers pris- 


oners. 


128 


THE BAD AND THE GOOD. 


No clear ideas of heaven attainable in this life. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE BAD AND THE GOOD. 

The bad and the good live in this world together, and the bad 
often oppress and trouble the good. But it will not be so in heav- 
en. There, none but the good can ever gain admission. 

It is not possible for us, in this life, to have any clear and full 
conceptions of what heaven will be, or any thing else that shall 
take place in a future state. All that we can now understand 
clearly is what relates to the present state, for the present state 
is all that we have yet seen and known. 

Suppose that a certain number of fishes, living in a lake, were 
going, B|t the end of their lives, to be turned into men, how impos- 
sible would it be for them, while they remained fishes, to form any 
idea of the change, since fishes can not possibly understand what 
it is to be a man. They might form some crude and general no- 
tions of land from their acquaintance with the bottom of the sea, 
but how little conception could they have of the life that man 
leads upon it, of the fields and groves that he walks in, of the 
houses that he builds, of his chairs, his tables, his b^ds, his books, 
and all the other possessions which he acquires. A fish must 
wait till he is a man before he can understand at all what it is to 
be a man. 

A child must wait till he is in heaven before he can understand 
what it is to be in heaven. 

Even the dog, an animal that sees and hears so much of what 


THE BAD AND THE GOOD. 


129 


A dog can not understand what it is to be a man. 

man does, can not, while he remains a dog, form any real concep- 
tion of what it is to be a man. The highest and best pleasures 
which a human being enjoys are such that the dog can have no 
idea of them. A boy, for instance, who works patiently for an 
hour in the evening at home on a difficult sum in his Arithmetic, 
when he finally comes to the end, and finds that he has got the 
answer right, experiences a very high and very peculiar emotion 
of pleasure. Now how impossible it is for a dog to understand any 
thing about such a pleasure as that. He can understand about 
such pleasures as hunting in the woods for foxes, and finding old 
bones to gnaw in a yard or behind a barn, and playing about the 
streets with other dogs, and other such canine enjoyments ;* but 
what can he know of the pleasures of a successful computation — 
he who has not capacity enough to enable him to count two ? A 
boy once taught a dbg to go and bring him a nail when he wanted 
one, but he could never teach him to go and take out two — just 
two, and no more — from a heap, and bring them. The dog has no 
capacity at all for computation. 

It is so with a great many other human pleasures. They are 
entirely foreign to the nature of the dog ; and if any particular 
dog were going to be changed into a man, it would not be possi- 
ble for him to have any clear idea of what he was coming to un- 
til he should actually come to it. 

So no human being, whether child or man, can form any clear 
idea of what the future state will be until he enters it. 

For this reason, Jesus Christ did not attempt to describe the 

* Canine means that which relates to dogs. Thus canine sagacity means the 
sairacitv of the dog. It comes from an ancient word, canis, which meant a dog. 


130 


THE BAD AND THE GOOD. 


The similitude of the fisherman and his nets. 

judgment and heaven directly and by themselves. He explained 
them by similitudes. He said that the bad and the good would 
be separated in another world, and he compared this division to 
various cases of separating good things from bad things in this. 
Thus we obtain some general idea of the fact itself, but that is all. 
Such general ideas are all that it is possible for us to have while 
we remain in the present state. 

We ought to be glad rather than sorry that the glories and the 
joys of the heavenly state are such that we can not know them 
here. If they could be fully conceived of by us in our present 
state, it would prove that they were very little raised above the 
joys which we experience here. But it is not so. “ Eye hath 
not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart. of 
man to conceive the joys which God hath prepared for them that 
love him.” 

Jesus Christ represented the separation of the good from the 
bad at the judgment day by a great many different similitudes. 

One of these similitudes was that of the fisherman sorting and 
separating his fish, when he gets the net to the shore. 

On the opposite page is an engraving which represents the 
scene. The fishermen have been out on the lake in their boat, 
and have been fishing with a net. Of course a net, when it is 
drawn through the water, draws in all the fish that it meets with 
together, the large and the small, the good and the bad, indis- 
criminately. 

These fishermen have drawn their net full of fish out of the 
water, and have placed them in a heap upon the shore, and are 
now looking over them, to select the good to keep, and the bad to 


THE BAD AND THE GOOD. 


131 


Picture of the fisherman sorting his fish. 

throw away. They are putting the good in vessels, such as were 

customarily used for such pur- 
poses in ancient times. Only 
see what a large and fine one it 
is that the man is now putting 
in ! He has to bend it to get it 
in at the mouth of the vessel. 
Some, on the contrary, are bad, 
and are rejected, and the other 
men are throwing them away. 
There go two of them through 
the air back into the lake again. 
They are good for nothing. I see 
some others in the heap lying on 
the ground which I think must follow them. 

Now you will understand the words of the parable. 

“ Again, the kingdom of heaven,” said Jesus, “is like unto a 
net that was cast into the sea, and gathered of every kind ; 

“Which, when it was full, they drew to shore, and sat down, 
and gathered the good into vessels, but cast the bad away. 

“ So shall it.be at the end of the world ; the angels shall come 
forth, and sever the wicked from among the just, 

“ And shall cast them into the furnace of fire : there shall be 
wailing and gnashing of teeth.” 

Another of the similitudes was that of weeds growing up in the 
midst of a field of wheat. A field of wheat, aftyer the plants have 



132 


THE BAD AND THE GOOD. 


The weeds in the wheat field. The gardener and the tree. 

grown above a certain height, can not be weeded. If the farmer 
were to attempt to weed it, he would trample down the wheat in 
walking over it to find the weeds, or he would destroy it in pull- 
ing them up. So he lets both grow together until the time of 
harvest, when he reaps and gathers all, both wheat and weeds ; 
and then, by sifting and winnowing, he gets out all the good grain, 
while all the useless and noxious seeds contained in it fall into a 
heap upon the ground. The good wheat is then put into the 
granary, while the weed seeds are burned, in order to prevent 
their ever growing and making weeds again. 

In a manner somewhat like this God allows the bad and good 
to live together in this world, but, when the time for the great 
harvest of the world shall come, He will make a complete and 
final separation between them, and send the wicked away, where 
they never can do the good any more harm. 

Another of the similitudes was that of the gardener sparing for 
a time a useless tree. When you plant an apple-seed in the 
ground, and it begins to grow into a tree, you can not tell, for a 
time, what sort of fruit it will bear. It grows higher and higher 
from year to year, and puts forth buds and branches, and becomes 
more and more a tree, but it brings forth no fruit until the full 
time of its bearing has come. Then it blossoms, and, when the 
blossoms fall, the fruit begins to form. But you can not tell what 
sort of fruit it will bear. The apples that form upon it may be 
large, and rosy, and sweet, or they may be small, and hard, and 
sour. It is even possible that it may bear no apples at all. 

The gardener, therefore, when he plants a tree, waits to see 
what sort of fruit it will produce him. It may be a very bad tree. 


THE BAD AND THE GOOD. 


133 


A child is a tree in the garden of the Lord. The picture. 

but, while it is growing, it stands in the midst of the garden with 
all the good trees. The skies give it the same sun and the same 
rain, and the gardener bestows upon it the same culture. He 
hopes that it will bear good fruit. a 

Every child that is growing up to maturity is such a tree. God 
has planted the tree, and has provided for it all the proper culture, 
and he is now waiting to see what sort of fruit it will bear. 

The gardener watches his tree. It may be a good one. He 
does not know yet. It may be a bad one. He does not know 
yet. He will know by its fruit. At length, when it comes to bear, 
its true character appears. If it does not bear at all, or begins to 
bear fruit that is not good, he does not condemn it at once. He 
waits to see if it can not be improved. He waits long, and tries 

every possible means to save it. 
He carefully tills and enriches the 
ground around it ; he prunes it, he 
grafts it, he makes every effort 
to save it, but, if all will not do, if 
its bad character proves hopeless 
and irremediable, he cuts it down, 
and burns it in the fire. 

Here you see the gardener cut- 
ting down the useless tree. He 
has cut far into the trunk already, 
and the doom of the useless cum- 
berer of the ground is sealed. The 
trunk will be cut up into logs for the winter fire, and the barren and 
withered branches will be trimmed off and burned on the ground 



134 


THE BAD AND THE GOOD. 


Jesus Christ went about doing good. The child that died. 

where they fall. In the distance we see the gardener’s assistant 
stirring up the fire where the branches are burning that came from 
another such a tree. 

Every child, whether young or old, who lives from day to day 
without doing good to others, is like this bad tree. He is a cum- 
berer of the ground. He will be allowed to live for a time, to see 
if he can not be changed, and made to bear good fruit ; but if it 
proves that he can not be so changed, he will surely be removed at 
last out of the way. 

Jesus Christ set us all an excellent example of doing good. He 
did not seek his own happiness, but spent his whole time in re- 
lieving and benefiting others in every possible way. He relieved 
their sicknesses, and comforted them in their afflictions, and taught 

them how to be good and happy. 
In this engraving we see him 
standing at the bedside of a young 
girl that had died. Her father 
and mother mourned and lament- 
ed her greatly. Jesus pitied them 
when he first heard of their sor- 
row, and his feeling of compassion 
for them was greatly increased 
when he came into the room, and 
looked upon the pale and lifeless 
countenance of the poor child, as 
she lay dead upon her bed, her 
arms extended by her side, and her beautiful hands, white like 
marble, lying upon the covering. He took one of her hands in 



o 


THE BAD AND THE GOOD. 135 

The relatives mourning at her bedside. Doing good. 

his, but it was cold and motionless. He pressed it, but it could not 
return the pressure. He heard the sobs of the father and the 
mother, who were overwhelmed with grief, and he pitied them 
greatly in their sorrows. 

That is the father of the child who stands at the head of the 
bed, by the side of Jesus. He endeavors to appear calm and com- 
posed, you see, but his heart is nearly broken. The mother is be- 
hind, almost entirely concealed from view. She can not bear to 
look upon the face of her child. A sister, too, stands weeping by 
her mother, overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her nearest and 
dearest companion and friend.* 

Jesus always pitied sorrows like these, and employed his divine 
power to relieve them. We should follow his example, and pity 
all the sorrows we see, whether small or great, always remember- 
ing that we evince the same spirit of love in endeavoring to relieve 
the smallest sorrows as when we remove the greatest. To com- 
fort a little child who has lost a plaything bv trying to find it for 
him, or by amusing his mind with something else if it can not be 
found, is a very different thing, it is true, from ending the affliction 
of a mother by restoring her dead daughter to life, but the spirit 
is in both cases the same.* 

* A full narrative of this case, with an account of what Jesus did, will be found 
in Luke viii., 41, 42, and 49-56. “Search the Scriptures.” 


136 


PAYING THE LABORERS. 


Description of the picture. The proprietor of the vineyard. The scribe. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

PAYING THE LABORERS. 

The man who sits at the table, in this engraving, with his 
face toward us, is a rich proprietor who owned a vineyard. 
He is settling the accounts with his laborers at the close of the 
day. 

The man who sits at the table with his back toward us is his 

clerk, or scribe. He keeps the 
account and pays the money. 
The money is in a bag on the 
table. Some of it is poured out, 
so as to be ready. The scribe 
listens to hear how much is to 
be paid to each man, and then 
writes it down in his account 
opposite to the man’s name. He 
then counts out the money, pays 
it to the man to whom it is due, 
and marks it paid in his account, 
and the thing is done. 

The man who is pointing is a laborer. He has worked all day 
in the vineyard, and now has come with the other laborers to 
obtain his money. But he is not quite satisfied with the sum 
which he is to receive. He thinks he deserves more. 

The reason why he is dissatisfied is this : he had agreed to 



PAYING THE LABORERS. 


137 


A penny a day. The reasoning of the proprietor. 

work for a penny a day,* and now the employer is ready to pay 
him the penny, but he himself thinks that he ought to have 
more. Some other men, who did not work all the day, as he did, 
were paid a penny apiece ; and .so, since he worked more than 
they did, he thinks he ought to have more money than they. 
Those other men came in from time to time in the course of the 
day. They were promised that they should be paid what was 
right. Some of them did not earn more than half a penny, and 
others, perhaps, three quarters. The owner of the vineyard, how- 
ever, finally concluded to pay them all alike. The man who is 
now talking to him is dissatisfied because he does not receive more 
than the rest. 

The owner of the vineyard, however, tells him that, since he 
receives all that was promised to him, he has no reason to com- 
plain on account of others receiving more than was promised to 
them. The money all belonged to the owner of the vineyard, 
and he had a right to pay it as he thought best, provided he did 
not pay any man less than was his due. 

Here is the story as Jesus himself related it : 

“ For the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is an 
householder, which went out early in the morning to hire laborers 
into his vineyard ; 

“And when he had agreed with the laborers for a penny a day, 
he sent them into his vineyard. 

* This penny was not such a on$ as our penny. It was a -silver coin, and the 
value of it was the amount ordinarily paid for a day’s work in those ancient times. 
The money in the bag and on the table in the engraving consists of such pennies. 


138 


PAYING THE LABORERS. 


The Scripture narrative of the case. 

“ And he went out about the third hour, and saw others stand- 
ing idle in the market-place, 

“ And said unto them, Gn ye also into the vineyard ; and what- 
soever is right, I will give you. And they went their way. 

“Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour, and did 
likewise. 

“And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others 
standing idle ; and he saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the 
day idle ? 

“ They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith 
unto them, Go ye also into the vineyard ; and whatsoever is right, 
that shall ye receive. 

“ So, when even was come, the lord of the vineyard saith unto 
his steward, Call the laborers, and give them their hire, beginning 
from the last unto the first. 

“ And when they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, 
they received every man a penny. 

“ But when the first came, they supposed that they should have 
received more ; and they received every man a penny. 

“And when they had received it, they murmured against the 
good man of the house, 

“ Saying, These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast 
made them equal unto us, which have borne the burden and heat 
of the day. 

“But he answered one of them and said, Friend, I do thee no 
w T rong : didst thou not agree with me for a penny ? 

“ Take that thine is, and go thy way : I will give unto this last 
even as unto thee. 


THE GROUND-SPARROW’S NEST. 


139 


What Jesus meant to teach by this parable. Jane and Lucy visit Madam Marion. 

“ Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own ? is 
thine eye evil because I am good ? 

“ So the last shall be first, and the first last ; for many be called, 
but few chosen.” 

Jesus designed to teach by this parable that the happiness which 
God bestows in heaven on those who love and serve him, and cher- 
ish the spirit of heaven in their hearts here, is not of the nature 
of a payment for what they do, but is his free gift to them — the 
fruit of his unmerited kindness and love. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE GROUND-SPARROW’S NEST. 

One pleasant afternoon in summer, two young ladies went to 
visit Madam Marion. Madam Marion had a niece at her house at 
that time whose name was Anne. Anne lived in a village, and 
there was a beautiful garden, filled with fruits and flowers, behind 
her father’s house. She used to like to walk in this garden very 
much when she was at home, and when she was at her Aunt 
Marion’s, she used to like very much to walk in her gardens. 

A little before sunset on the day of the visit, one of the three 
young ladies proposed that they should go out and take a walk. 

“Not quite yet,” said one of the others, whose name was Lucy. 
“ Let us wait till the sun gets down a little lower.” 

“ Oh no,” said Jane, “let us go now.” Jane was the one who 
had first proposed the walk. 


140 


THE GROUND-SPARROW’S NEST. 


The sparrows in the garden. 


The fence. 


Gate in the grove. 


“Yes,” said Anne, “let us go now, and I will lend you my sun- 
shade, Lucy.” 

“Well,” said Lucy, “I will go now, if you will lend me your 
sun-shade.” 

So the young ladies went out into one of the gardens, and 
walked down the broad alley of it very happily together. 

When they were about half way down the alley, they saw a lit- 
tle bird hopping along upon the gravel before them. Very soon 
this bird was joined by another one. The tw T o birds hopped about 
among the beds and borders a few minutes together, and then 
flew off over the fence at the bottom of the garden. 

“What cunning little birds!” said Lucy. “I am sorry that 
they flew away.” 

“ They are sparrows,” said Anne. “I suppose they are a pair, 
and perhaps they have a nest somewhere about here.” 

So the young ladies walked on. 

They came at length to the fence at the bottom of the garden. 
They looked over it, and saw a pleasant little field beyond. It 
was a quiet and retired place, and was shaded with trees. It 
looked very attractive. 

“ Let us go over there,” said Anne, “ and sit down under the 
trees.” 

“ There is no gate,” said Lucy. “ How can we get there ?” 

It was not surprising that it seemed to Lucy that there was no 
way to get into the field, for there was no gate in sight, and the 
fence was of a peculiar form, and seemed to be quite a difficult 
one to climb. It was quite massive in its construction. The 
posts, which were large and square, were each surmounted with 


TIIE GROUND-SPARROW’S NEST. 


141 


Description of the garden fence. Jane goes to take a walk. 

a large ball. There was a rail along the top of the fence, and 
another at the bottom, but the bars between these two rails were 
perpendicular, not horizontal, and so there was nothing to step 
upon in climbing.* 

The difficulty, however, of getting over the fence was soon re- 
moved by Anne, who said that there was a small gate at the end 
of the fence, around the corner, at a place where there was a dark 
grove of trees, and that, if they wished to go into the field, they 
could pass out there. All the young ladies agreed to this sugges- 
tion, and so they took the path in the garden which led toward the 
gate. When they reached the gate, they passed through, and 
found themselves in the shade of a dark, thick wood. They then 
came round through this wood, and advanced to the open place 
which they had first seen in looking over the garden fence. Here 
they sat down upon a grassy bank, under a tree, to rest. 

Presently Jane rose from her seat. 

“Where are you going, Jane?” said Lucy. 

“I am going to walk about,” said Jane, “ and see what I can 
find.” 

“ Oh, there is nothing to find here,” said Lucy ; “ sit still, and 
let us rest and talk.” 

“ No,” said Jane, “ I am going to see if I can not find some wild 
flowers, or something else that- is pretty or curious.” 

So Jane went away. The other two young ladies remained on 
the bank, talking together. 

From time to time, Jane came to them, as they sat, to show them 
what she found. She brought wild flowers, and different kinds of 
* See the engraving, two pages further on. 


142 


THE GROUND-SPARROW’S NEST. 


Jane goes to the grove again. The flowers. She finds a bird’s nest. 


nuts, and other sylvan curiosities. After showing these things to 
Lucy and Anne, who remained all the time at rest upon the bank, 
she would go back again under the trees, she said, and look for 
more. 

“ I wish you would go with me too,” she added. 

“ No,” said Anne, “ I am tired, and Lucy and I will sit here 
and talk. But if you find any thing pretty, bring it here and 
show it to us.” 

“Well,” said Jane, “I will, if you will stay here in this same 
place till I come.” 

So Jane, leaving Anne and Lucy on the bank, went back to- 
ward the grove. For a time she rambled about, looking at the 
wild flowers that grew there, but without finding any thing very 
remarkable. She succeeded, however, in gathering quite a num- 
ber of pretty flowers. 

At last, as she was walking along upon the grass, in a sunny 
place upon the margin of the grove, suddenly a little bird flew out 
from a tuft of grass which was growing there. 

“ There goes a little bird,” said Jane. “ I verily believe it is 
one of the sparrows which we saw in the garden.” 

Instantly another bird crept out from the grass and flew away. 

“ There goes the mate,” said she. “ Perhaps their nest is here.” 

So she advanced cautiously to the spot, and, pushing the grass 
aside gently with her hands, she found the nest. It was a small, 
round, cap-shaped cavity, lined inside with soft grass. There 
were three speckled eggs inside. Jane was much pleased with 
the sight ; she took out one of the eggs, and went to show it to 
Lucy and Anne. 


THE GROUND-SPARROW’S NEST. 


143 



Jane brings the egg to show it to Lucy and Anne. 

“ See !” said she, as she held the egg out to them, “ see what 
I have found.” 


Anne and Lucy were much interested in looking at the egg. 

“What are you going to do with it ?” asked Anne. 

“ I would carry it home,” said Lucy, “ and keep it for a curios- 
ity.” 

“ Oh llo,” said Anne, “ I would not rob the poor birds of their 

“ Why, they would not care,” said Lucy. “ I don’t believe that 
they would know that it was gone. Are there any more in the 
nest, Jane ?” 

“Yes, two,” said Jane. 

“Well, they would never know whether there were two or 


THE LITTLE EGG. 


144 


THE GROUND-SPARROW’S NEST. 


A conversation on the subject of eggs. The decision. 

three. Hens never know whether you take their eggs away or 
not. As long as there is one egg left, or even a piece of chalk to 
represent one, they are perfectly satisfied.” 

In dealing with human beings, w T ho, as intelligent and rational 
creatures, are endued with clear and settled rights to property, it 
is never any excuse for a person who takes what does not belong 
to him that the owner of it would not miss it. It is nearly, if 
not quite, as wrong, to do one a concealed and covert injury as an 
open and violent one. How far this principle is to be applied to 
the brute creation is somewhat uncertain. In fact, whether it 
would be strictly right for a child to take a robin’s or sparrow’s 
egg from a nest, in a case where there was good reason to believe 
that the birds would be perfectly satisfied with the number that 
remain, is a very nice and delicate question. There are a great 
many questions, less difficult to decide than this, on which vol- 
umes and volumes of disputation and controversy have been 
written. 

The young ladies in this case, however, were saved the trouble 
of deciding the question, for, while they were thinking and talking 
about it, their attention was turned to another point. 

“Jane,” said Anne, “I would not carry it home. I don’t think 
it would be very pretty.” 

“Why, I think it is very pretty indeed,” said Jane. 

“ It looks very pretty in the nest,” replied Anne, “ but I do not 
think that an egg is a very pretty thing to have at home in a 
drawer.” 

Jane began to reflect upon this answer. It had never occurred 
to her before that a thing might be very pretty in one place, and 


THE GROUND-SPARROW’S NEST. 


145 


An important distinction respecting the beauty of an egg. 

not pretty at all in another. On reflection, however, she was at 
once satisfied that it was correct. Nothing is more beautiful than 
a little blue or speckled egg lying with others in a nest, hid 
away in the grass, or concealed in the foliage of a tree, but in the 
parlor of a house it ceases very soon to be agreeable, whatever 
is done with it, whether it is laid away in a drawer, or placed in 
view upon a mantle- shelf, or hung up by a string. 

“ I would not carry it home,” said Anne. “ You will soon get 
tired of it, and then you will wish that you had left it in the 
nest.” 

Jane looked as if she were hesitating. 

“ Besides,” continued Anne, after a short pause, “ if you take 
away this egg, there will be one less bird in the world next sum- 
mer.” 

Jane liked birds, and was very unwilling to do any thing to 
diminish the number of them. So she said she would go back 
and put the egg in the nest. The three young ladies all went to- 
gether to see. Jane laid the egg back carefully in its place, and 
they all agreed that it looked much prettier lying there, by the side 
of its mates, in its proper place, than it would in any other situa- 
tion whatever ; and then there was the other advantage which 
Anne had named besides, that of having one bird more in the world 
in the following summer, to amuse them by hopping about the 
walks, and to sing to them from the branches of the trees. 


146 


THE MISER. 


Various ways of appropriating money. 


' Hoarding. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE MISER. 

When you are a man, if you are prosperous in your business, 
and gain a great deal of money, there are several ways in which 
you can expend it. 

1. You can buy houses with it, or pay it to carpenters and ma- 
sons, that they may build you new T houses. Then you can let the 
houses to people that wish to live in them. They will pay you 
money every year for letting them have your houses. The money 
that they pay is the rent. 

2. You can build ships with it, and then buy a cargo of goods to 
put into the ships, and send the ships with the cargo across the 
ocean to some other country where that kind of goods is wanted. 
You can sell the goods for more than they cost, and so get more 
money than you had before. 

3. You can join with other men, and build a manufactory, or 
rail-road, or steam-boat, and then twice a year you can divide 
among you the profits that you make. 

4. You can expend your money in buying carriages, and horses, 
and fine clothes, and gold watches, and diamond rings. If you 
expend it in this way, when it is once gone it will be gone for- 
ever. 

5. You can hoard your money — that is, you can pack it up in 
bags and strong boxes, as the man in the opposite picture has done, 
and so keep it for the pleasure of counting it over. A man who 


THE MISER. 


147 



Picture of the miser counting his money. 


This miser has some of his money in bags, and some of it in a 
great strong box. The bags are marked with figures, to show how 
much money is in each bag. The strong box is bound with iron. 
The iron bands and plates are fastened with rivets. We can see 
the heads of the rivets. There is a very strong handle on the end 
of the box to lift it by. The miser has a large lock on the door 
of his room, with a great iron bolt besides, above the lock. There 
is a sword on the mantle-piece. Perhaps the miser keeps the 


hoards his money where it makes no profits and does no good, 
except to give him the pleasure of counting it, is a miser. 


148 


THE MISER. 


The treasury robbed. Condition of the treasures left behind. 


sword to defend his treasures from the robbers, in case they should 
be attacked. 

With all his money, the miser feels discontented and uneasy, 
for, though he has gained so much, he wants more. He is count- 
ing it up to find how much it is in all, and is disappointed because 
it does not come to quite so much as he hoped. He saves every 
thing he can, so as to get as much as possible in his trunks. His 
chair was broken, but he could not spare money enough to get it 
properly mended, so he nailed a stick across from one leg to an- 
other, to keep the legs together. 

He has an *ink-stand and papers on the table, to use in keeping 
his reckonings, and a ledger, with an account of his Cash and 
Bonds in it, on the ground. This is all. He has no carpet on 
his floor, no fire in his fire-place, no comfortable or pleasant furni- 
ture in his room. He takes pleas- 
ure in nothing but in counting his 
money; and this gives him but 
very little pleasure, for he always 
wants more. 

Here is another picture of a 
miser. A thief has broken into 
his strong room, and stolen a part 
of his money. The thief took as 
much as he could carry away, and 
has left the remainder of the 
treasures all in confusion. The 
gold and silver vessels are over- 
turned, and the money is all scattered about the floor. 



THE ROBBERS. 


TIIE MISER. 


149 


Meaning of the parable. 


Way to make preparation for heaven. 


The owner of all this hoarded treasure has just discovered that 
his strong-room has been broken open, and he is coming in, full of 
consternation at the loss which he has sustained. 

It is, after all, only a small portion of his treasure which is gone. 
He has a great deal more left than he can ever use. There is a 
large iron chest, which the thief could not get open, and seven bags 
full of money which they could not carry away. Still, the man 
who owns the treasure will be overwhelmed with vexation and 
chagrin. The treasures which are left will give him no pleasure, 
on account of the sorrow he will feel for those that he has lost. 

This picture is to illustrate what Jesus Christ said. “ Lay not 
up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth 
corrupt, and wdiere thieves break through and steal, but lay up for 
yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth 
corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal.” 

The meaning of this is, that it is best for us not to set our hearts 
too strongly on any happiness that is to be obtained in this life, 
but to make it our great end and aim, while we live in this world, 
to prepare for the happiness of the world to come. 

The joys and pleasures of this life are so fleeting and transitory, 
and can so easily be marred by the thousand accidents which are 
always occurring, that it is far better to make it our chief desire 
to prepare ourselves for the enjoyments of heaven. 

And one important thing to do in making this preparation is to 
cultivate in our hearts the spirit of heaven. 


150 


THE FIRE IN THE FIELD. 


Some children like to be useful. 


George. 


CHAPTER XIX. - 

THE FIRE IN THE FIELD. 

George is a farmer’s son, and he takes great pride in having 
all the yards around his father’s house look nice and tidy. He 
does this work himself of his own accord ; that is, without being 
told to do it. His father and mother are very much pleased with 
him for this, and some of the neighbors say that they wish they 
had such a son to keep their yards and gardens in order. 

Some girls are like George in this respect. They take an 
interest, of their own accord, in the neatness and order of the 
house. They take care of the drawers, and the closets, and the 
furniture of the rooms, so far as they can, and thus help their 
mothers very much indeed. Others never do any thing of this 
kind spontaneously,* and when they are told to do it, they obey 
in a sullen and reluctant manner. They sometimes even seem to 
be unwilling to put away their own bonnets and shawls, when 
they come in from a walk. 

As soon as the ground is dry in the spring, George rakes over 
all the walks, and beds, and grass-plots in the yards and gardens, 
and gathers the rubbish into heaps. Then he goes around with 
his horse and cart, and forks up all the rubbish into the cart, in 
order to haul it away into the field to burn it. He thinks it best 
to burn it, rather than to take it into the barn-yard, because it 
may contain the stalks and seeds of weeds ; and if he should put 
* That is, of themselves — of their own accord. 


THE FIRE IN THE FIELD. 


151 



Picture of George’s fire in the field. 


George has brought a load of rubbish into this field, and is now 
burning it. He has taken the horse out of the cart, and has 
turned the cart up. against the tree. The horse stands near, and 
is looking at the fire. He can not see it very well on account of 
the blinders on his bridle. They put blinders upon a bridle in 
order to prevent the horse from seeing things suddenly by the 
side of the road, which might frighten him. His blinders do not 
prevent his seeing before him where he wants to go. 


it into the barn-yard, it would finally be spread out upon the land, 
and then the seeds would sprout and grow, and thus propagate 
weeds among the corn, or potatoes, or wheat, or barley, or what- 
ever else might be growing in the fields. 


GEORGE’S FIRE. 


152 


THF FIRE IN THE FIELD. 


The harness. The collar. The traces. The whipple-tree 

There is a collar around his neck, with a chain attached to it, 
which passes along his side ; at the end of the chain is a leather 
thong, called a trace. In the harness of a horse there are two 
traces, one on each side. The ends of the traces are fastened to 
the ends of a bar of wood, which passes across from one side to the 
other. This bar is called a whipple-tree. It is by means of the 
collar, the chain, the trace, and the whipple-tree that the horse 
draws the cart. Whenever we take a ride in a chaise, or a 
buggy, or a carriage of any sort, w T e can easily see the collar, the 
traces, and the whipple-tree. They do not often have chains, 
except in the case of a cart. 

George is burning his heap of rubbish at a place in the field 
near a well. The well has a windlass, with a handle to turn it by, 
and a bucket with a rope. There is a small roof over the wind- 
lass, to protect it from the ram. The rain would soon cause the 
pivots of the windlass to rot and decay, so that they woujd not turn. 

There is a large jug on the platform of the well. George is 
going to fill this jug with water, and take it with him into the 
field where he is going to work, in order that when he is thirsty 
he may have a drink always ready at hand. 

Thus George takes an interest and a pleasure in making him- 
self useful, especially to his father and mother. He knows very 
well how great his obligations are to his father and mother, for the 
kindness and care which they have exercised over him from his 
earliest infancy, and he feels grateful to them. He wishes to make 
the best return in his power for their long-continued love to him. 
So he is always ready to do any thing that will help them, or give 
them pleasure. 


THE FIRE IN THE FIELD. 


153 


George and his father sowing. Description of the picture. 

Below we have an engraving representing George and his fa- 
ther sowing in a field. They are sowing with a machine which is 



GEOEGE DRIVING THE TEAM. 


drawn by a team of four horses. George drives the horses, while 
his father guides and manages the machine. The team has been 
stopping to rest, but is now ready to move on again. 

George has a long whip in his hand. He wears a cartman’s 
frock. His father wears a frock too. 

The field where George and his father are at work is very pleas- 
antly situated on the margin of the river. There is a vessel sail- 
ing on the river. She is near the farther shore. There are sev- 
eral small sail-boats besides. They are so small, on account of 
the distance, that they can scarcely be seen. 

The farther bank of the river is in full view. The land is high, 
but it is very remote, and the houses upon it, if there are any there, 
are entirely invisible. 


154 


GRAFTING. 


Madam Marion meets Joanne. 


Joanne waits to speak to her. 


CHAPTER XX. 

GRAFTING. 

One pleasant day in the spring, Madam Marion, having occa- 
sion to go into the village to make some purchases, and to see a 
lame boy who was confined to his room, and whom she was accus- 
tomed to visit, saw Joanne walking along the road at a little dis- 
tance, just as she was going in at the gate where the lame boy 
lived. 

Joanne, you will recollect, was one of the girls who did not get 
a blue ribbon at the time when the children were admitted to the 
gardens, on account of the bad spirit and temper which she dis- 
played. 

As soon as Joanne saw Madam Marion, she came running to- 
ward her, and seemed very glad to see her. 

Madam Marion spoke a few words to her, and then went into 
the house. She remained in the house more than half an hour ; 
but Joanne did not go away all this time. She lingered about 
the door, and near the corner of the fence, waiting patiently till 
Madam Marion came out. 

And when Madam Marion came out at last, and was passing 
by the corner, Joanne said to her, in a very pleasant and gentle 
tone of voice, 

“ Good-by, Aunt Marion.” 

Madam Marion was surprised to find that Joanne had been 
waiting so long to bid her good-by. She stopped to speak to 


GRAFTING. 


155 


They take a walk together. Their conversation. Joanne is penitent. 

her a few moments, and then shook hands with her and went 
away. 

After she had gone, she thought of this meeting, and of the 
state of mind in Joanne which it denoted. 

“ Her drawing near to me in this way,” said she to herself, “ is 
a very good sign. Perhaps she wishes to become a good girl. 
I’ll go and see her some day.”* 

So one evening, about sunset, Madam Marion called at Joanne’s 
house. Joanne was playing at that time in the yard. She ran 
eagerly to Madam Marion when she saw her coming. They went 
to take a walk together. Their walk led them along a very pleas- 
ant path by the bank of a stream. 

After they had talked on other subjects a little while, there was 
a pause . They were walking along very pleasantly together, hand 
in hand. At last Joanne said, 

“lam very sorry that I did not get a blue ribbon the other day, 
Aunt Marion.” 

“Yes,” said Madam Marion, “I was sorry too. The gardens 
are very pleasant places to play in.” 

“ It is not that so much,” said Joanne, “ but I should like to be 
a better girl. How can I be a better girl V’ she added, looking up 
into Madam Marion’s face. 

As she looked up, Madam Marion saw that there were tears in 
her eyes. 

“It is very hard, I know,” said Madam Marion. “You see it 
is your heart that has been wrong. If it was only your actions 
that were w T rong, you could alter them very easily ; but it is the 

* “ Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you.” — Janies, iv., 8. 


156 


GRAFTING. 


Joanne goes to see Unde Ben’s pear-tree. Unde Ben is going to graft the tree. 

heart that is to be changed, and a change of heart is a change of 
nature, and that is very hard. But come to my house to-morrow 
evening at this time, and I’ll show you how Uncle Ben manages it.” 

So the next evening Joanne went to Madam Marion’s house, 
and Madam Marion, after talking with her a little time in the 
house, took her out into the garden. They found Uncle Ben 
there, standing before a tree that was growing in a pleasant bor- 
der, surrounded by flowers. But, though the tree grew in a very 
pleasant place, it had quite a wild and savage appearance. Its 
branches were angular and stiff, and they were covered with 
thorns. 

“What sort of a tree is it, Uncle Ben?” said Joanne, 

“It is a pear-tree,” said Uncle Ben. 

“ And does it bear good pears ?” asked Joanne. 

“No,” replied uncle Ben ; “the pears are hard, and bitter, and 
sour. They are pucker pears, in fact, of the worst kind.” 

“ And what are you going to do with the tree ?” asked Joanne. 

“I am going to change the nature of it,” said Uncle Ben, “and 
make it bear good pears.” 

And how are you going to do that ?” asked Joanne. 

“I am going to graft it,” said Uncle Ben. “Come with me, 
and you will see how I do it.” 

So Uncle Ben led the way, and Madam Marion and Joanne 
followed. He came at length to a very large and beautiful pear- 
tree, which stood near a wall in a sunny corner. The form and 
character of this tree were the reverse of the other. The bark 
was soft and smooth, the branches waved gracefully, and there 
was not a thorn to be seen, 


GRAFTING. 


157 


Process of ingrafting a bud. The bud will change the nature of the tree. 

“There ! this is the tree,” said Uncle Ben, looking on the tree 
before him with an expression of great satisfaction upon his coun- 
tenance, “ this is the tree where I get all my buds and scions.” 

So Uncle Ben took a sharp knife from his pocket, and then, 
with great care, he cut out a small bud from one of the limbs of 
the tree, with a portion of the bark attached to it. He carried 
this bud carefully to the wild pear-tree. Madam Marion and 
Joanne followed him, to see what he was going to do. As soon 
as he came to the wild tree, he selected a good branch pretty 
low down upon the tree, and there, making an opening in the 
bark, he slipped the bud in, and closed the bark over it again in 
such a manner as to leave only the tip of the bud peeping out at 
the place of the incision. 

Then he wrapped some covering around the place to preserve 
the ingrafted bud from injury. 

“There !” said he ; “now that bud will grow, and by-and-by it 
will change the nature of the whole tree.” 

“How can it ?” asked Joanne. 

“Why, it will grow and put forth first some leaves, and then a 
little twig, and, finally, it will become a large stem of itself, with 
many branches. It will keep its own nature all the time, and so 
the fruit that grows upon it will be good fruit. I shall watch the 
tree as the new grafting grows, and cut away all the old, wild 
wood, and finally the new grafting and the branches which grow 
upon it will become the whole tree. Then the nature of the tree 
will be entirely changed. Instead of bearing thorns and pucker 
pears, it will become a smooth and beautiful tree, and will bear 
large, and rich, and jucy fruit.” 


158 


GRAFTING. 


Uncle Ben’s explanations. Outward reformation insufficient. 

“ When shall you begin to cut away the wild and thorny wood?” 
asked Joanne. 

“ I am going to begin now,” said the old gardener. So saying, 
he took a strong pruning-knife out of his pocket, and immediately 
began to cut away the stiff and thorny branches that grew near 
and around his ingrafted bud. 

“ I must cut these away,” said he, “ to let the bud grow.” 

He threw the thorny branches down as he cut them away, and 
trampled them under his feet. 

When Uncle Ben had finished his giafting, Madam Marion and 
Joanne went back into the house. 

It was now time that Joanne should go home. Madam Marion 
said that she would go with her a part of the way. So the two 
walked along together. 

“ Now you know,” said Madam Maiion, “ how it is that Uncle 
Ben changes the nature of his trees.” 

“ Yes,” said Joanne, “ and I think it is a very good way.” 

“ You see it is necessary to change the very nature of the tree, 
in order to make it bear good fruit. Uncle Ben might have at- 
tempted to change his tree in another way. He might have 
trimmed off all the thorns, and bent the branches into waving and 
graceful curves, and done many other such things to alter the out- 
ward appearance and character of it ; but all that would never 
have made it bear good fruit.” 

“ No, indeed!” said Joanne. 

“ It is necessary for him to change the very nature of the tree,” 
continued Madam Marion, “ and this is done by bringing a bud from 
a good tree, and ingrafting it in. And you must do the same.” 


GRAFTING. 


159 


The Spirit of Jesus must come into the heart like a germ. Joanne makes good resolutions. 

“ Must I ?” said Joanne, doubtfully. “ Then I will. But how 
am I to do it ?” 

“ I’ll tell you how,” said Madam Marion. “ You must have the 
Spirit of Jesus Christ brought ^nto your heart like a little germ, and 
then you must watch this germ, and not let any thing hinder it 
from growing. Read in the Bible what Jesus did, how he felt, 
and how he acted, and what he said, and pray to God to guide and 
help you. If you do this, a little bud, as it were, from his Spirit 
will be ingrafted upon yours. Then you must cut away all the 
old thorny branches, and watch the bud, and make it grow ; so, 
by-and-by, you will become wholly transformed into his likeness.” 

“ Is that the way?” asked Joanne. 

“ Yes,” said Madam Marion, “that is the w^ay.” 

“ I think that is a very easy way,” said Joanne. 

“ Yes,” replied Madam Marion, “it is very easy, and it is very 
effectual. It is the only effectual way. You can change your 
outward actions, perhaps, but you can not change your nature in 
any other way.” 

“ I think that is a very good way,” said Joanne, “ and I mean 
to do so the first thing.” 

« That is right,” said Madam Marion ; “ read the Bible a little 
every day, with your heart open to receive the good bud which 
the Spirit of God will bring out of it to your life from the life of 
Jesus. You will soon find that the bud is beginning to grow. You 
will find your heart beginning to be filled with love for all around 
you, with pity for the sorrows and trials which they suffer, and 
with desires to help and relieve them. Then you must watch 
yourself, and cut away and reject all that is bad, and pray con- 


GRAFTING. 


160 ' 


Joanne bids Aunt Marion good-by. 

stantly to God to watch over and protect you, and to forgive all 
your sins for the Redeemer’s sake. Do this, and you will soon 
find that you are fast becoming a new creature in Christ Jesus. 
Will you do it ?” 

“ Yes, Aunt Marion,” said Joanne, “ I certainly will.” 

So Joanne bade Madam Marion good-by, and went home, very 
happy in the hope of having her heart renewed by the infusion 
into it of the Spirit of Jesus Christ her Saviour. She felt a strong 
confidence that the plan which Madam Marion had explained to 
her would succeed. In fact, it is very plain, from the change 
which was then manifested in her, that the good work had already 
been begun. 


THE END. 


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